Beyond Recall
by laurajslr
Summary: After a terrible accident, Merlin is left with no memory of his time in Camelot. Separated from Arthur and all who could tell him who he is, Merlin tries to piece together his life and his loyalties. But loyalties can be influenced; lives can take very different paths to the ones they were destined for. And a lost sorcerer is a very powerful and useful weapon to have.
1. Chapter 1

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

Hello, one and all. I've decided to have a go at another story, but I can't stress enough that updates might not be very regular. I've literally written this chapter and half of the next one and that's as far as I've got. I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything. I'm going to try for weekly updates to start with and then we'll see from there.

So…this story was originally going to be a sort of quiet, introspective tale, with not a lot of epic-ness, but then I thought of another story which had the same first 4000 words, but past that, bore no resemblance to the original. Guess which one you're getting!

Hope you like it. Please let me know!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

'I'm just saying: now that you're married, you can't go around smiling at all those women,' Merlin told Arthur, keeping his face neutral and fighting the urge to grin.

'Thank you, marital advisor of Camelot,' Arthur shot back. 'And I wasn't smiling at all those women: I was smiling at everyone and some of them happened to be women.' The King pulled his horse up a little so that Merlin could draw level, the knights a few paces behind him. The staggered procession had been purely for show as they left the town that Arthur had been visiting. It wouldn't have done the King's reputation any good if his servant had led the way out.

Now though, they were out of sight of the small community, only the open plain ahead as they reached the end of their ascent out of the Kaiden Valley.

As far as outings with Arthur went, Merlin was more than happy with the current trend. With Morgana's failed takeover a few months behind them, Camelot was experiencing a rare bout of calmness and peace; on the basis of which Arthur had decided to take the opportunity to visit different areas of his Kingdom, particularly ones that had been overlooked for one reason or another in the past.

Since his ascension to the throne, there had been very little time for Arthur to do those sorts of things, but he was determined to show himself as a King who was concerned for and took interest in the lives of his subjects, not the distant King that his father had been. He hadn't said that in so many words, but Merlin could see it in the way he spoke to the people, in the way he treated them with a respect that Uther would have deemed below a King.

Merlin was proud of him for it, and had voiced the thought to Arthur several times; the first few occasions he had been met with a comment of derision, but after a while, Arthur seemed to show genuine gratitude for the sentiments.

But not only was Merlin proud, he was also thoroughly enjoying himself. The trips were giving him a chance to meet new people and hear about the lives they were living; it gave him the opportunity to watch Arthur's kingly skills and actions develop and mature and it also gave him the chance to get away from the constraints of Camelot's hierarchal system. Of course, when they reached a town, both he and the knights dutifully filled their positions, but in the many hours between times, all of them had a chance to relax, chat and generally enjoy each other's company.

Of course, that freedom didn't extend to Merlin getting out of cooking or cleaning duties, but he didn't mind that so much. Anyway, Percival and Elyan would often give him a hand; they still weren't completely accustomed to being waited on, even after all this time. Gwaine made half-hearted attempts to help, but usually ended up causing more problems; Merlin suspected that some of that was an intentional ploy to avoid extra chores.

'What would you recommend I do?' Arthur continued pointedly, 'Glare at them whenever they look my way?'

'Well that's what you do to me and I'm still convinced you should be King.'

A snort of amusement from at least two of the knights behind gave Merlin a smug satisfaction, along with Arthur's glare, which more than proved his point.

'You know, Merlin; I don't have to bring you along on these state affairs; there are plenty of things that you could be doing back in Camelot.'

Merlin just raised an eyebrow at him.

'I'm indispensable on these trips. Trust me: you'd all starve if I wasn't here.'

'I can hunt,' Arthur argued.

'I know, but can you skin, gut, clean, prepare and stew the meat?'

'It can't be that hard,' he retorted, 'you do it.'

'Well why don't you cook tea for us all tonight?' Merlin suggested nonchalantly. 'I could do with a bit of a rest; it's hard work having to talk you up to everybody.'

A friendly shove was the only reply Merlin got for the comment. He glanced over at Arthur to see the King shaking his head in amusement.

A few hours later found all of them sat round eating a stew –prepared by Merlin- and looking back over their most recent tour of the Kingdom.

'The people appreciate your visits my Lord,' Leon was telling him as he dipped some bread –a gift from yesterday's town- in the sauce.

'The mighty King Arthur deigning to come to their humble dwellings,' Gwaine quipped, but he gave Arthur a grin.

'I want them to know that they are important to me,' Arthur returned, 'and that they have Camelot's protection. For too many years, my Father ignored the outlying lands.'

'You can sense the tension at the beginning of the visits,' Elyan nodded, 'there is bad feeling there.'

'Precisely. A Kingdom can not be strong when there is distrust between the people and their ruler. What we are doing is important,' Arthur told them all, looking at each one in turn, his gaze finally landing on Merlin who gave him a nod of assurance.

'You are giving the people what I never had,' Elyan continued, 'a sense of worth; a sense of belonging and protection. I never felt that when I was living outside of the city.'

'Nor I,' Percival added. 'When Cendred's men killed my family and attacked my village there was no help and no expectation of it. We were abandoned. These people no longer feel like that.'

Percival delivered speeches like that so rarely that it seemed to bring the conversation to a comfortable close. Merlin smiled to himself as he washed up, marvelling in the people that Arthur had managed to find to be his closest friends.

'You have loyal knights around you,' he whispered later that night when they were all settled down. Gwaine was on first watch several metres away and Merlin could hear the rhythmic breathing of the rest of the knights. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling to sleep. Merlin looked over from where he lay in the darkness, the King's face just silhouetted in the moonlight.

'I have loyal _men_ around me,' he corrected. 'Last time I looked, Merlin, you weren't a knight.'

'Feel free to knight me of you want.'

'I'd have to find another servant: too much hassle. And I can't imagine you sword fighting your way through a battle.'

'You never know. I've been picking up techniques from all of you.'

'Stick to the cooking Merlin; I think you'll be safer.' He sighed heavily and the silence pressed down heavily.

'Are you alright?' Merlin pressed. 'The tour was a great success; the others were right earlier: the people understand that you are for them.'

'I know. I just don't think it's enough,' he said slowly.

'What more can you do? You've been all over Camelot, Arthur; you've seen thousands of people. Even the surrounding kingdoms must see that your lands are defended.'

'That's just it, Merlin. My lands may be defended, but what of the rest. What of Ealdor?'

'You saved it from those bandits all those years ago; it _was_ defended,' Merlin told him incredulously. 'No-one's been near it since.'

'But my father refused the order because it was in Cendred's lands.'

'An order which you defied.'

'But what I mean is: there must be hundreds of Ealdor's out there; villages living under the rule of an unfair king; helpless when troubles come. Camelot can not always come to their aid; we don't hear about the things that go on. It was only your mother's actions that gave us any indication of Ealdor's persecution.'

Merlin again felt a pride well up in him. How far Arthur had come since that first day when he had fought Merlin and thrown him in the stocks. The emotion in the King's voice showed clearly how desperate he was to help everyone; how much he wanted to use his position and influence to provide for the entire land, not just Camelot. He kept these thoughts to himself, though, knowing that Arthur wasn't saying these things for recognition.

'They aren't your responsibility,' Merlin told him. 'You can not feel guilty for things that are outside of your control.'

'What if they were in my control?'

'A war?' Merlin asked, but he doubted that was where Arthur was heading. The prophecy that Merlin had repeated to himself hundreds of times over the years rose in his mind now. _The Once and Future King who would unite the lands of Albion._

'No,' Arthur replied. 'Everyone looses in war, the people most of all. But if there was a way for the kingdom's to work together; for all the kings and queens to rule Albion, rather than their own realms.'

'The five kingdoms are united,' Merlin pointed out, but he could sense Arthur shaking his head.

'It isn't enough. And besides, my father's motives were wrong. He looked for political leverage and military security; his mind was not on keeping the people across the five kingdoms safe. Even if that had been the case, it is only a small percentage of Albion. The whole land has to work together.'

Merlin allowed the depth of Arthur's conviction and passion to fill the space between them before he spoke again.

'It is a good dream, Arthur.'

'A dream that I can not achieve.'

That's not true,' Merlin told him, propping his head up on his hand and turning onto his side to face Arthur. 'If anyone can do it, you can.'

Arthur gave a small laugh, but it was not of disbelief. His tone was gentle when he next spoke.

'I appreciate it, Merlin, I really do, but you realise, don't you, that the faith you put in me is impossibly hard to live up to?'

'You haven't let me down so far.'

'Well, just don't…' he tailed off and shook his head again.

'Don't what?' Merlin prompted.

'It doesn't matter.'

'Come on Arthur.'

'We both need to get some sleep. Back to normal life tomorrow. Night, Merlin.'

Merlin gave a sigh; he wouldn't be able to push Arthur; his tone was clear. 'Goodnight, Arthur.' He closed his eyes, the echoes of their conversation still floating round his head as he fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur heard Merlin's breathing even out almost instantly; it showed how tired his manservant had been. But sleep still eluded Arthur as he lay there, his eyes on the few stars that he could see through the foliage above him. Merlin's confidence in him, though he often ridiculed it, usually gave him the resolve he needed to carry out a task, but sometimes it just frightened him; tonight being one of those times. His friend always spoke with such a matter-of-fact attitude about the impossible dreams and quests that Arthur set himself. To unite the whole land of Albion? That was surely an impossible dream, and yet Merlin believed in it already. Arthur had only voiced it as the tiniest of ideas, but Merlin had taken it on board as if it was written in stone.

Yes, it frightened Arthur, but not because of the enormity of the task –though that did little to comfort him. No, what scared him was the standards that he would have to live up to. _Just don't…_ he had said, but he hadn't been able to complete the sentence.

_'You haven't let me down so far.'_

_ 'Just don't stop believing in me if I do.'_

That was the thought that had gone though Arthur's mind at that moment. Because he needed that belief from those around him: from the knights; from Guinevere and from Merlin. He needed their belief. They made him who he was; they guided him on his journey.

It took several hours for him to drift off and when he did he dreamt of Albion: together and whole.

* * *

It was Elyan who shook him awake the following morning as the birds chorused in the dawn light. Arthur knew that he had been asleep for at least five or six hours, even with his watch shift in the early hours, but he felt utterly drained. Perhaps the travelling of the last few weeks had taken more of a toll on him than he had realised. Now they had finished their current tour, his body seemed to have decided it was alright to give up for a while.

Still, he could hardly lie their sleeping while the rest of his group were eating breakfast and packing up the camp. He spied Merlin throwing a few bits of wood on a small fire and ambled over to him, patting Leon and Percival on the back as he went and giving Gwaine –who had not moved from under his blanket- a gentle kick in the leg.

'Here,' Merlin said, holding out a bowl of a selection a fruit and what remained of the bread from the previous night. He didn't even bother looking at Arthur, focussing instead on the pattern he was drawing in the dirt with a stick.

'Yet more servant-like conduct from you,' he said sarcastically, sitting beside him and throwing a few bits of apple into his mouth.

'I made you breakfast; that felt servant-like.'

'Fair enough. Have you had any?'

'I'm not that hungry.'

Arthur rolled his eyes. How Merlin remained standing when he ate so little was beyond him.

'Eat something now, or I'll tell on you to Gaius.'

'No you won't,' Merlin told him.

'Try me.'

The emphatic sigh from his manservant showed that he at least thought it possible that the King would tell on him. Sulkily, he picked up another bowl and began picking at it. Arthur kept his amusement to himself. On more than one occasion, Gaius had asked him to check that Merlin ate enough. The first few times, Arthur had dismissed it as over-protectiveness on Gaius' part, but when the requests continued, Arthur had watched Merlin closely on one of their hunting trips, only to see that Gaius had a point. From that moment on, Arthur had made sure that Merlin ate a reasonable amount of food whenever they were away from Camelot.

It didn't even seem to be that Merlin didn't want to eat; he just tended to forget. He'd get so caught up in whatever they were doing that meals became a low priority. Arthur couldn't imagine ever falling into the same trap.

A few minutes later, all of them were fed and watered and ready for the long trek home to Camelot. Initially, everyone was quiet, so Arthur occupied himself with thoughts of Guinevere. He had missed her terribly while they had been away. He knew she would have come with them if he had asked, but the thought of the Queen roughing it in the wilderness had not sat comfortably with Arthur. It wasn't fit for a Queen, and Gwen needed all the help she could get in understanding how a queen should act.

It wasn't that she was doing a bad job, far from it; the people loved her and she fulfilled her duties with the skills of someone who had been trained for a court position for years. The problem was that she hated having everything done for her. He had been unsuccessful in his attempts to get her to employ some handmaids; the most she had agreed to was one maidservant who, from what Arthur could tell, served more as a companion and friend, than a servant. When he had mentioned this, Gwen had shot back that Merlin could hardly be described as a king's manservant. Their first argument had followed in which Arthur pointed out that while, yes, Merlin was more like a friend, it didn't stop Arthur from ordering him around the majority of the time. Of all the things for them to argue over: Merlin!

From that point on he had given up trying to convince her to treat her servant as such, and had also decided he was fighting a losing battle when it came to stopping her from tidying their shared chambers. He had made Merlin do it for several weeks when he knew that Gwen would be out, effectively stopping her from having the job to do, but Merlin's tidying skills weren't exactly renowned and Gwen had found plenty to occupy herself.

Stopping her from sleeping rough for a few weeks, therefore, had seemed like a good idea. He hadn't realised at the time, however, just how much he would miss her. He missed waking up beside her; missed seeing her smiling at him in that innocent way that she did. On more than one occasion, Merlin or one of the knights had thrown something at him to snap him out of his daydreams.

He allowed himself to revel in said daydreams for a while, but soon the rising of the sun and the heat of the day seemed to animate his travelling companions. Before long there was a steady murmur of conversation -Merlin rambling on most notably- and Arthur was happy to listen in, offering his own comments every now and then.

* * *

It was just before lunch that it happened.

They had reached the wooded area at the top of the Aldon ravine, one that was very rarely traversed. The paths were overgrown and the ground rocky. The path they were trekking along wasn't particularly narrow, but the sheer seventy or eighty metre drop down to the white waters of the Bernt River made Arthur a little nervous. He looked back to check on his men, but they seemed to be equally cautious and were trailed back in a single-file line. The knights were someway behind, laughing at something Gwaine was saying, while Merlin was just behind Arthur, asking –much to Arthur's surprise- when they would be stopping for lunch.

Arthur was about to reply when a slight rustling on the ground behind him alerted him to the fact that something was there. Merlin, too, must have heard it because he glanced down, but as he did, his horse jumped back, her front hooves flying into the air as she reared up. Arthur just about caught sight of the snake that had slithered, quite innocently, across the horse's path, before it disappeared again.

Instantly, Arthur felt his heart race. He pulled his horse to a stop and watched in horror as Merlin's horse backed closer and closer to the edge of the ravine.

'Merlin,' he said slowly, holding a hand out, fearful that any sudden movement from him would scare the horse further. 'You need to get her under control.' But even as he said it, the horse reared again, her eyes wide, her nostrils flaring, her hooves loosing footing on the uneven ground. 'Merlin!'

'I'm trying,' he grimaced, but his face had gone pale. His knuckles were white on the reins and his voice shook as he attempted to soothe the terrified beast.

For a split second, Arthur thought his friend had managed it as the horse planted all four feet firmly on the ground. But the relief evaporated in a flash as she reared again, and Merlin, who was usually so good with animals, fought to bring her back under control. Within seconds she had backed up to the precipice of the ravine.

'Merlin, get off her!' Arthur yelled as he jumped off his own horse, deciding that scaring Merlin's steed was the least of his problems compared to the very real threat that Merlin now faced of being thrown over the edge. He ran forward to try and catch the reins, but just before he got there, she jumped again, higher this time, almost overbalancing herself in her desperate attempt to get away from the snake that had long since disappeared. Arthur saw Merlin's hands come away from the reins and then saw them flailing as he tried to find the ropes again, but his grounding was gone.

Arthur felt like his entire world paused for a moment as his eyes met Merlin's. He knew –that much was obvious. He knew exactly how close to the edge he was and exactly how he would fall and exactly what it meant. He looked at Arthur with something like desperation and something like an apology in his eyes, and then suddenly, the world was moving again and Merlin was being thrown backwards, his limbs flailing and clawing as he tried to catch onto thin air.

'No!' Arthur screamed, the cry echoing all the way along the ravine, louder than the rushing water, more powerful than the unforgiving currents that swirled below. He threw himself forward, making an utterly futile attempt to catch his friend as the crazed horse bolted down the path. All he succeeded in doing was nearly following Merlin. Had it not been for some powerful arms that grabbed his legs, he probably would have found himself rushing down towards the swollen river below, the air sweeping past him, howling in his ears as the inevitable ending approached.

As it was, all he could do was watch as Merlin spiralled down, getting smaller and smaller, his head cracking against a small outcrop, before his body was consumed by white fire at the bottom.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

Thank you so much for your response to chapter 1; it was lovely to receive so many encouraging reviews.

I know I said weekly updates, but I've managed to write quite a lot over the last few days, so I think I can probably post this chapter a little earlier, and also I just love seeing what you think.

Oh, and as for the time period for this story, it's probably a year or so after the end of series 4. Giving us a three year gap between series 4 and 5 was an ingenious idea on the part of the producers to ensure that fan-fiction could be slotted harmlessly into the cannon of the show. I doubt that was the key factor in their reasoning though.

Anyway, here you go.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Arthur felt himself dragged back by the same arms that had saved him from falling into the ravine, but he barely registered them. He kept his eyes fixed on the water, waiting to see Merlin resurface, wave at him for help and then tell them to make the two hour descent to the bottom of the ravine and come and get him. Arthur didn't blink, he didn't move, but nothing appeared in the water; it was fast flowing and treacherous. Merlin wasn't going to resurface.

An uncontrollable rage filled him and he slammed his fists into the ground, screaming at it with incomprehensible words. He scrambled to his feet, registering the shocked and desperate faces of his knights as they looked between him and the space where Merlin had been seconds before. Gwaine was closest to him, having been the one that pulled him back, but the knight soon moved off, a lost look on his face.

'No!' Arthur tore his gloves off as he said it and threw them onto the path. He paced back and forth, going close enough to the edge to worry Leon.

'Sire,' the man said gently, but Arthur wasn't listening, couldn't listen. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair, rubbing at his face, shaking his head. That hadn't just happened; that couldn't have happened. Merlin had been there. He had been right there. He had shoved breakfast at Arthur this morning. He had agreed with Arthur's dream of uniting the lands. He had been there.

And now he wasn't.

Without thinking, Arthur grabbed his sword from its scabbard and, with a mighty yell, slashed it across the surface of a tree that over hung the ravine. He felt the steel stab its way through the age old wood, felt the impact reverberate painfully up his arm, and then pulled the sword out and repeated the blow. Again and again he hacked at it, splinters ripping through the air, embedding in his arm and face, and he could hear his voice echoing all around, like a never ending symphony of anger and despair.

He revelled in the pain that shot through his arm with each strike until he became numb to it, and then he dropped his sword and allowed his knuckles to burst with red against the bark. It was then that arms pulled him back. Lots of them, all saying his name, or his title, whichever they deemed more appropriate when manhandling their King into submission.

Arthur fought against them, but it was useless; he knew these men, had trained them and trained _with_ them for years. He was no match for all of them together. He felt himself being forced to the ground and being rested up against a rock while Percival and Gwaine held him in place.

'I know how you feel,' Gwaine told him as Arthur continued to struggle. The knight's voice was so full of desolation, so lacking all of its normal levity that the fight went out of Arthur. He sagged against the rock and bowed his head. Instantly, Gwaine turned and sat beside him. Percival held him in place a while longer, not as certain as Gwaine seemed to be that Arthur really had stopped, but eventually the man backed away and stood next to Leon.

There was silence for a long time.

* * *

'Where's Elyan?' Arthur asked abruptly a long time later. Gwaine was still sat beside him, one knee pulled up to his chest where his elbow rested on it, his hand supporting his head. Percival was holding the horses steady a little further back down the path and Leon was watching Arthur carefully.

'He…' Leon began, seemingly caught off guard by Arthur's sudden question. 'He went to fetch the horse,' he continued hesitantly.

'Merlin's horse?' Arthur asked, although he knew it could be no other.

'Yes, Sire.'

'That horse needs to be retired. I don't want the knights using it.'

'Sire,' Leon replied carefully, 'it was accident.'

'I don't want it used!' he snapped back. Leon looked at him for several seconds and Arthur met his gaze firmly, daring him to try and contest the ruling.

'Of course, Sire.'

Silence again. Arthur didn't like it. It made room for the sound of water to bubble up to his ears. Rushing water. Fierce water. Cold. Icy. Black.

He stood up abruptly. 'We're going,' he ordered.

'But Elyan-'

'We'll meet him on the way.' The knights hesitated, but one glaring look from Arthur changed their minds. They saddled their horses, now keeping even further away from the cliff edge. It was only a few minutes before they met Elyan leading the errant horse. Arthur didn't look at it; but avoiding looking at the creature's face meant that his gaze fell on the saddle bag that was still strapped safely to its side. Worn fabric, with patches dotted all around. The telltale sound of pots clinking together inside as the horse trotted. Arthur ripped his gaze away.

'I need you to lead it,' he told Elyan.

'Yes, Sire.' He gave Arthur a look which reminded him of Guinevere's expression whenever she was trying not to say something that she wanted to. Guinevere! No, he wasn't going to consider her reaction. He didn't want to think about how he would tell her, or what it would do to her. All he had to do for now was walk forward. That was all that was required of him.

The procession was a sombre one. They didn't stop for food, they didn't talk. Nothing was said until they reached the bottom of the ravine. Arthur turned his horse back along the river.

'Camelot's to the East, Arthur,' Elyan said slowly.

'We're not going to Camelot.' He was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. If they weren't going to Camelot, then where were they going? Evidently the knights were thinking the same thing.

'Sire?' Leon pressed.

'I want the banks searched. I want the river watched,' Arthur heard himself saying. Of course: he couldn't leave anyone behind. There was silence behind him and he turned to see the knights either exchanging glances or avoiding looking at him.

'Sire,' Leon began, evidently having been silently voted as spokesperson. 'The Bernt river is deep and the currents wild. Merlin couldn't have-'

'I know he's not alive,' Arthur told him quietly and firmly, using all his self control not to shout the words. 'But I am not leaving him here.' Leon didn't reply, but Arthur could tell he was choosing his next words. Arthur understood his hesitation; this was likely to be a failure. The river was notorious and unpredictable. But he also knew that he couldn't go back to Camelot without at least trying.

'I'm not leaving him either.' The voice came from behind Leon. Gwaine. The man looked pale, grim, desperate. Arthur had not seen this version of Gwaine before. He didn't like the fact that he had to see it now, but at least it gave him an ally. Gwaine dismounted from his horse and tied it to a mangled tree root. 'I'll head back along the river.' And with that he was gone; his pace brisk and determined. He wanted to get away from everyone, Arthur realised, before suddenly realising that he, too, wanted nothing more than to be on his own. He followed suit and tied his own horse up.

'We split up. Meet back here at sunset,' Arthur told them. He headed the opposite way to Gwaine.

He walked for a long time, his eyes scanning the water and the banks, but he took very little in. His mind would spring into action if his eyes saw anything that could be…useful in his search, but aside from that he wanted to keep his mind blank. It seemed like the best way. One foot in front of the other, the sucking of mud beneath his boots, counting each step. But soon the mud became thicker and he was forced to move further away from the river or risk loosing his boots entirely. His boots were a mess; he would have to ask Merlin to clean them up.

He shuddered to a halt. He hadn't meant to think that. He hadn't. He put a hand to his head as memories began to leach into his awareness. He shook his head, trying to dislodge them, but they were beginning to seep in like a slow leak. The dam would burst soon enough and Arthur knew he couldn't be standing when that happened. He stumbled into the trees that bordered the bank, and half sat, half fell, onto the muddy ground.

He was just in time. The dam burst, memories flooding through and filling his awareness. And weaved through all of them was the one truth that made everything so painful.

Merlin was dead.

Arthur put his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

Arthur reached their meeting point as the sun seared the horizon. His knights, with the exception of Gwaine, were already there, sat down on the rocks that littered the shore, each looking despondent, each looking as he felt. He scanned the area, looking for and dreading to find a familiar body, clothed in reds, browns and blues; but there was nothing, no discovery, no small piece of comfort in the situation. No Merlin.

'I'm sorry, Arthur,' Elyan said, standing up and offering him a water skin. Arthur took it, but didn't drink anything. His throat was tight and he wasn't sure how easy it would be to swallow.

'Gwaine?'

'He shouldn't be too long.'

Arthur nodded and joined his men on the rocks. He sat down and attempted a few mouthfuls of water. It seemed to stick in his throat, but he soon realised that he was very thirsty. He hadn't eaten or drank anything since breakfast. The breakfast that Merlin had given to him.

Gwaine reappeared several minutes later. He looked even worse than he had done when he had set off. Arthur wandered if the knight had done the same as him: sat somewhere as grief tried to force its way through his chest; gulped in air desperately between shuddering sobs that seemed to shake his whole body, while he forced a fist into his mouth to try and stifle the cries that poured from his throat. That had been a good proportion of Arthur's afternoon. Had anyone been there, he would have felt ashamed of his lack of control; but he had been on his own; there was no-one to judge him or deem his behaviour unworthy of a king, or say that he was being weak in reacting as he had.

Instead there had been his own accusations, his own guilt and regret, and the sound of rushing water. He had managed to calm himself down and restore his kingly façade afterwards, but he could feel the grief threatening to rise again, like a wave beginning to crest in the distance.

'I didn't find him,' Gwaine said quietly as he joined them and sat down. The rest of them shook their heads in acknowledgment of the shared failure before turning to Arthur. Here he was then: leader, King, decision maker.

'We stop here tonight.'

'That is not a good idea, Sire,' Leon said. 'We are exposed on the banks.'

'There is no-one here.'

'That's not to say that there won't be groups around; there have been reports in this area recently.'

'I am the King and I say we stay here,' he said firmly, knowing that he was being childish by pulling rank, but something in him didn't want to move. Something seemed to be tying him to the spot. He couldn't walk away from the river.

'Arthur.' Arthur's head snapped up at the sound of Percival's voice. He realised that the man hadn't said anything since…since before. That more than anything got his attention. The big man moved over to him, silhouetted slightly in the sunset, but soon his figure shrank as he crouched next to Arthur. 'My Lord,' he continued. 'I have been on patrol in these areas and there are rogue groups working along the river. There is a chance that they will have come this far. You are our King, but at the moment it is hard for you to think strategically.'

Arthur looked at him, holding his gaze firmly. He didn't want to look weak, not now of all times when he had never felt so much like he could shatter, but Percival had understood that. The man hadn't spoken loud enough for anyone else to hear. Slowly, Arthur nodded.

'Gather the horses,' he said quietly to Percival. The knight nodded and quickly handed over the organisation to Leon, who looked relieved at the easy change of heart. Within minutes they were heading into the woods that bordered the river.

* * *

Arthur didn't sleep that night. He didn't even try. He organised the watches, finding that having something to do took his mind off things, and then outlined a rough plan for tomorrow. They were aiming to be back in Camelot by late morning.

Then life would begin again.

He didn't know how he would tell Guinevere or Gaius; all he knew was that he had to at least hold it together until he reached his own chambers in the castle. He would have a meeting of the round table to carry out first and then he would have to organise a training schedule for the week. He would also need to debrief over what had been happening in Camelot while he had been away. It felt good to have the next day so clearly laid out; there wouldn't be too much time to think.

Night, however, posed a problem. There was nothing to be done after his watch had finished, save lie on the ground, not sleeping. His chest began to ache more painfully when he was still and quiet. He couldn't just stay there.

So it was that when he saw Gwaine get up and disappear off towards the river, he didn't think twice about following him. Elyan was on watch at the time and Arthur tilted his head to indicate where he was going. He didn't think the knights would appreciate him disappearing without a word at the moment. They didn't appreciate it at the best of times.

Silently, he made his way through the woods, feeling the snap of twigs beneath his feet as the wind crept through the leaves above him. A bright moon meant that it was easy to spot Gwaine standing by the river as soon as Arthur broke through the line of trees. The knight's armour shone eerily in the moonlight, giving him a ghostly aura, but Arthur didn't like that thought and so quickly dismissed it.

'You know, I never ever worried about Merlin,' Gwaine suddenly said. Arthur frowned in surprise, he hadn't realised he'd given himself away. He took a few steps forward until he was level with the knight; both of them looking down at the swelling torrents of the river.

'Really?' Arthur asked. 'I always worried about him.' He swallowed as he realised how easily the past tense had slipped into his words.

'Nah, he always came back, didn't he. Think about it.' Gwaine shook his head and sighed. 'It doesn't make sense, this.'

'It was an accident,' Arthur whispered, hearing a little voice in his head telling him that he should have done more.

'That's just it: Merlin was never going to die in an accident,' Gwaine continued.

'What do you mean?' Arthur asked. He was expecting Gwaine's words to bring his grief to the surface once more, but he felt strangely calm.

'I mean, if he was going to die; it should have been in some foolish but heroic act. You know the ones I'm talking about. He survived them enough times. But this…what happened…' he shook his head, swallowing heavily; Arthur recognised the inability to carry on, the fear that your voice would tremble and give you away.

'This didn't mean anything,' Arthur finished for him. Gwaine nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. Arthur couldn't escape the truth in those words. Gwaine was right: that wasn't the way that Merlin was meant to die. It meant nothing, it had achieved nothing; it had saved no-one. It was…pointless; it had been in vain. The grief began to rise up in him again, his moment of calm gone. He stared out across the river and felt tears slip down his cheeks; he willed Gwaine not to turn around and the knight seemed to hear his silent plea. He remained facing forward, stoic and struggling all at once.

'It has to mean something,' Gwaine eventually said. 'We have to make it mean something.' Silence for several seconds.

'I don't know how to,' Arthur eventually admitted, his voice quiet. He shook his head and scraped his boot into the mud; he didn't want to talk about this, not now, perhaps not for a very long time.

'I'm going to make it count,' Gwaine suddenly said; fervour in his voice. He turned to Arthur, his eyes firm. 'He was the best friend we could all hope for. You know he was.' Arthur nodded, how could he ever deny such a simple fact now? Another regret swept through him. Why hadn't he voiced that truth to Merlin more often? Why had he always had to wrap it in sarcasm?

'Don't do it to yourself.' Gwaine told him. Arthur frowned; since when had the knight been so insightful? Neither of them could really say that they were the best of friends; in fact, Merlin had always been their common ground. Arthur knew Gwaine had only come to Camelot because of Merlin. Since then, he knew that the knight's loyalties had extended fully to his King as well and, in return, Arthur had found his respect for Gwaine as a fighter and decent man increasing ten-fold, even if they didn't always understand each other's approaches to situations. 'You know he'd never hold anything against any of us. It wasn't in him.' Arthur didn't want to address that comment; he wasn't sure that he could dismiss his guilt so easily. He nodded briefly, but then changed the subject.

'How are you going to make it count?' he asked instead, wanting to be told what he could do.

'Dunno; I think we all need to do it. What d'you say?' Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but found that his voice had lost its strength. Instead, he nodded and reached out a hand to grasp Gwaine's elbow. The knight returned the gesture easily, but there was a gravity to the exchange, a determination, a joint purpose.

But a joint purpose didn't give way to any ideas and soon they were both staring at the water again, a companionable silence and shared grief enveloping them.

'I don't want to leave him here,' Arthur found himself saying suddenly. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the thought had been going around and around in his head as he stared unseeingly through the night air.

'We won't find him,' Gwaine replied heavily. 'I've seen rivers like this, places like this all over. The waters are…' he shook his head. 'I fell in one once, when I was little. Couldn't find my footing, didn't know which way was up. Thought I was going to…' he shrugged. 'Only thing that saved me was slamming into a rock. Managed to pull myself out.' He bowed his head. 'It's a frightening way to…' but he couldn't finish.

'He wouldn't have known,' Arthur told him quietly. 'He…I don't think he was conscious when he reached the water.' He closed his eyes as he saw Merlin falling and then hitting his head against the side of the ravine. Perhaps he'd even died before he'd reached the bottom.

'You sure?'

'He hit his head,' Arthur nodded.

'Probably better that way,' Gwaine said after a few seconds of silence. Arthur took several deep breaths as a wave of nausea rose up inside him; he could see the fall; see those last moments playing out in his memory. He didn't want to speak about Merlin like this, didn't want to accept what had happened before his eyes, but the fact was beginning to settle over him, undeniable and unchangeable. No: action was better.

'When we get back to Camelot; I'll send riders out along the river,' Arthur said quietly.

'Alright,' Gwaine nodded. 'But don't live on the hope they'll find him.'

'There's a chance.'

'I know, but it isn't one I'd bet on.' The words should have sounded hard, unfeeling, but there was such sadness in the knight's voice, that Arthur felt his heart hammering. More silence, more memories. Arthur needed to find a way to escape them.

'I'm really going to miss him,' Gwaine said, so quietly that Arthur only just made out the words. The knight turned away from the water and clapped Arthur gently on the arm before heading back to their camp. Arthur didn't follow straight away, unable to leave just yet. He traced the swirling patterns that the currents made and saw the violence in their movements. Gwaine was right; they wouldn't find him. He sighed and knelt down by the side of the river. Lowering his hand, he felt the icy water wash over it, pushing it forward, trying to tempt it downstream.

'Me too,' he murmured, Gwaine's comment still echoing through his mind. 'Goodbye Merlin.'

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	3. Chapter 3

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you for all the reviews; they were lovely to read! Finally catching up with Merlin in this chapter! Let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 3**

It really hurt. That was the first thing that Merlin realised as his eyes began to open. They seemed to have trouble remembering exactly how to do it; the lids getting half way up and then closing again, but eventually he found that he was looking up at bright foliage which the sun was beaming through. That was enough for him to abandon his opening eyes attempt. He shut them quickly against the light and pressed a hand to his forehead which suddenly throbbed like he was being stabbed repeatedly. The skin there felt tender and it was raised against his fingers. Evidently, he'd hit his head.

He groaned and tried to use his other, less painful senses to determine exactly where he was. He could hear water some distance off and he could smell smoke and something cooking. His stomach rolled at the thought of food. He was so hungry.

Cautiously, he turned onto his side and opened his eyes to slits, but at the sight of two men crouched down beside a small fire, his eyes opened more fully. Who were they? He didn't recognise either of them. More importantly: where was he?

One of the men suddenly glanced his way. He was older than Merlin, but still young looking, maybe mid twenties. He was dressed in leathers and chain mail with a sword hanging at his side. He looked rough and unshaven, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and dirt shading his face.

'Here, James,' he said, knocking the other man's shoulder. 'He's waking up.'

'Already?' the second man replied. He was much older than his partner. He was dressed in similar garb, but his hair was greyer and longer and he was much stockier than the other man.

'Told you, didn't I. It'd be the only way he could recover so quickly.'

'I'll admit, it's looking more likely.'

'More likely? Look at his head, hardly anything there.'

'That doesn't mean-'

'Tiden's gonna love him.'

The conversation made no sense to Merlin; he simply watched them with confusion and felt more and more alarmed as they moved closer to him; staring at him like he was some sort of animal.

'Who are you?' Merlin asked quietly.

'Much more important is who you are?' the older man, James, replied. Merlin hid his unease. This felt a lot like the beginning of an interrogation.

'My name's Merlin.'

'Merlin?'

'Last time I checked.' James gave him a look somewhere between annoyance and disinterest. 'Who are you two?' he tried again after a few seconds.

'I'm James, this is Steven.' Merlin waited for a slightly fuller explanation, but it didn't seem one was coming.

'Did you attack me?' he asked instead, gingerly touching his head and feeling the pain spike again.

'How's that for gratitude?' Steven snorted. 'We saved your life. Although, I think you might have been alright without us.'

'Saved my life?'

'We pulled you out of the river.'

'River?'

'The Bernt River,' Steven told him as if it was the answer was obvious. Merlin frowned and shook his head, before realising that the movement hurt…a lot.

'I don't…' he sighed. 'I don't understand what's happening. I don't remember anything that…' he tailed off and took several deep breaths. He couldn't deny that a swell of panic was forming in his stomach. 'Where am I?' he asked instead. 'Where's the Bernt river?'

'Camelot,' James said slowly. 'How hard did you hit your head?'

'Camelot?' Merlin asked in panic. He couldn't be in Camelot. How had he even got here? It was dangerous for him to be here. He knew what their laws were. 'We're near the border though, by Cendred's lands?' he asked desperately. Perhaps he had been out with Will and fallen in a river, although he couldn't remember there being a river called the Bernt anywhere near him.

'Cendred?' Steven asked with a short laugh. 'Where have you been for the past few years?'

'I'm from Ealdor, in Cendred's lands.'

'Cendred's been dead for ages,' James said, his voice less amused than Steven's.

'But…no he hasn't. That's impossible. I…' Merlin closed his eyes. What was going on? What on earth had happened to him? 'How far are we from Cendred's lands?' he asked instead. 'I need to get back to my village.'

'Steven told you: it's not Cendred's lands anymore. Besides, you can't have come from that direction,' James explained slowly. 'The Bernt River doesn't go anywhere near it.'

'There's nowhere else I could have come from. I've never been anywhere else.'

Steven and James exchanged a look and moved away from Merlin. He didn't bother calling them back, choosing, instead, to put his head down on the ground again and close his eyes. He concentrated on making his breathing steady and even. This was not a good time to start panicking. Although, he couldn't remember a time when he'd been in a worse situation than his current one.

'We think you've lost your memory.'

Merlin opened his eyes. He hadn't heard them walking over to him.

'I know; I can't remember falling in the river.'

'No,' Steven said slowly, like he was talking to a particularly stupid child. 'We think you've lost a lot of your memory.'

'I can remember everything else fine.'

'Really?' Merlin nodded. 'How old are you?'

'Seventeen.'

'Not a chance.'

'I am seventeen,' Merlin told them firmly.

'No you're not. You must be at least five years older than that,' James told him.

'I know how old I am,' he replied getting angry now.

'Really?' Steven laughed. 'Like you know that Cendred isn't King anymore? Like you know that you're in Camelot? Like you know how you fell in a river that doesn't go anywhere near your home?' He shook his head. 'Face it: you haven't got a clue.'

Merlin had to admit that the man had a point. What on earth was going on? He closed his eyes and tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. It had been harvest; he and his mother had been helping Tom bring in the crop. It had been a good year and Tom had given extra portions of grain to every family in the village. He remembered feeling excited at the prospect of fresh bread on a regular basis this year. Past that, he could remember nothing. He had no idea how he had left his village, let alone ended up in Camelot of all places. It wasn't exactly the safest kingdom he could have chosen to wake up in with no recollection of how he had got there.

When he opened his eyes, it was to find James offering him some food, rabbit from the looks of it. Again his stomach rolled and he accepted the plate quickly, allowing himself to be helped up by the older man and not caring too much about the fact that he had no idea who these men were and what their intentions were regarding his safety. He bit into the meat eagerly, barely noticing that he was burning his mouth as he chewed.

'So,' Steven began as he sat down with his own portion of food. Merlin looked up. '…you going to tell us what trick you spun to survive a swim in the Bernt?'

'What?' Steven laughed at him and rolled his eyes, turning to James.

'He must have been living in Camelot for a while if he's that precious about it.'

'He probably doesn't remember.'

'What are you talking about?' Merlin asked them. 'You said you pulled me out of the river.'

'Yeah, we did,' Steven nodded, 'but like I said: I don't reckon you'd have needed our help.' Merlin just frowned at him. 'Tell me: how does someone who smacked his head hard enough to knock out years of memories, wake up a few hours later with nothing more than a pink scar and a bit of bruising?' Merlin stopped eating instantly, panic coiling in his stomach as he pressed a hand to his head and felt the tender skin there once more.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he replied, trying to feign confusion, but Steven just grinned at him.

'Let me tell you. When we pulled you from the water, your head was still bleeding...a lot. Now look at it.'

'It can't have been a bad cut.'

'No? Well, riddle me this. What conclusion would you draw if you pulled someone from a river, unconscious, and a few minutes later they lay on the ground muttering in some weird language while their body glowed and healed itself –bruises, cuts and all? Oh,' he added in an afterthought, 'and just to make it really weird, the person who had been in said-river was pulled out of it completely dry.'

'I'd say that you were mistaken,' Merlin replied, his voice shaking, his mind going blank. He tensed his muscles, ready to make a run for it, but suddenly James was kneeling beside him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

'We know what you are and we're not going to hurt you for it.' He stood up and walked over to Steven, clipping the man round the head. 'Stop scaring him, you idiot.'

Merlin watched Steven grin, shrug and then relax himself back into eating his meal, but Merlin felt no such calm. They knew. He was in Camelot and people knew what he could do. Not that any of it made sense. Yes, he could do a few tricks here and there -nothing particularly controlled and most of it done on instinct- but saying spells as Steven had suggested; he couldn't do that. He didn't know anything. And healing himself? He'd never been able to do that. He'd never really had cause to try.

'I don't know what you think you saw, but you're wrong. There must be another explanation. Maybe the sunlight or the wind or something.' From where he sat, Steven sniggered and carried on eating, evidently taking nothing of what Merlin was saying on board. James on the other hand turned to him.

'Don't take us for fools, Merlin. We've seen enough magic to be able to recognise it.' The man backed away, heading back over to the fire.

'I don't have ma-' Merlin began, but he was cut off as James suddenly reached for one of the cooler ends of the logs in the fire and then flung the whole thing at Merlin. Before he could stop it, Merlin felt his magic flare up inside him and direct itself at the incoming attack. Instantly, the log changed course and flew off into the distance. Merlin gasped and doubled over at the power of the surge; he had never felt strength like that before; never had his instinctual response been so immense.

'Woah, look at that James,' Steven said in amazement, his eyes watching the log fly hundreds and hundreds of metres into the air. Merlin looked at James, who hadn't bothered to watch the log.

'So we've settled that,' he said. 'You have magic; powerful magic if that's your natural response, so don't waste your time or ours trying to deny it.'

'That…' Merlin began, but he couldn't finish the sentence. What had that been? Since when had he been able to wield such instant and immediate power? The log should have just stopped in mid-air and fallen to the ground, that had been all that passed through his mind. But this? What had happened to him? What had he done to be here, at this moment, with this strength?

He looked up at his two captors –for that had to be what they were. What would they do to him? After all, he _was _in Camelot.

'Please,' he began as calmly as he could. 'I've never used my magic to harm anyone; I never would. All I want is to get back to my village. If you let me go, you'll never hear anything from me again.'

'We're not letting you go,' Steven told him with a shake of his head. 'There's somewhere we want to take you.'

'Please, King Uther will kill me, and I've done nothing wrong,' Merlin started, his calmness fading. This was getting worse and worse with every passing minute.

'Uther?' Steven laughed. 'It's like talking to an idiot,' he sighed at James. The old man took over.

'Uther is not king of Camelot. He died over a year ago. His son Arthur is king.'

'Well, then please don't take me to King Arthur,' he replied, wondering again, just how much was missing from his memories. 'I know what happens to those with magic in Camelot, but I'm not a threat.' James surveyed him carefully.

'We do not represent King Arthur. We're not even from Camelot. We work for King Tiden of Cyathia.' Merlin frowned at the information. He'd barely heard of Cyathia, but from what he could remember, it was an insular kingdom, not known for making alliances with anyone. Nobody really knew anything about it.

'Then why are you here?' Merlin asked, his curiosity staying his fear for a moment.

'You don't need to know, but let knowledge of our homeland convince you that we bear you no ill-will. Cyathia is not Camelot, and we are not with Arthur Pendragon.'

He sat down and the three of them fell into a silence that Merlin found distinctly unnerving. Steven watched him with barely concealed amusement, while James occupied himself with his food and studied a parchment that he'd pulled from his bag. Merlin looked around. He had no idea where he was, but he knew that he had to get back to Ealdor. Perhaps his mother would be able to fill him in on what had happened. He didn't dwell on darker thoughts that began to rise up as he considered what events and situations his lost memories might contain. For now, he just needed to be somewhere familiar.

'If you are not a citizen of Camelot and you bear me no ill-will,' he began carefully, 'then why am I not free to go?'

'Memory or no memory,' James said, not looking up, 'you might prove to be useful.'

'I'm really not that useful,' Merlin said, with a half concealed laugh. Useful was definitely not a word he had heard in relation to himself very often. He seemed to cause more trouble than most –not that he ever meant to. 'I live in a small village where I farm and cook. There's nothing else I can do.'

'Really? Then what was with blasting that piece of wood out of the kingdom?' Steven sneered.

'I don't think being able to make a log fly hundreds of metres can really be called a skill set,' Merlin retorted, irritation at the man's demeanour bringing out the insolence that his mother often warned him against. Not that he ever used it on her, but he was always quick with a sarcastic retort if someone was acting like an arrogant clotpole. Merlin frowned as the word popped into his head; what kind of childish insult was that? Looking at Steven again, however, he decided that it probably fitted.

'You listening to this, James,' Steven laughed, turning to his partner. 'Bit of fight in him. Might be useful.' Merlin didn't bother listing the reasons why him attempting to fight would be a complete waste of time. Experimentally, he stood up, trying to gauge how much of a problem his head injury was going to cause. Lots, it seemed, as he was forced to sit down again by a bout of nausea.

'Don't bother trying to get away,' James told him. 'We can track you easily. And besides…' He muttered a few words under his breath and instantly Merlin felt his hands snap to his sides, while his ankles locked themselves together as if held by an invisible cord. He struggled against the unseen restraints, but found that the movement agitated his head. He looked up at James. '…I've got a few tricks of my own,' the man finished, his expression unchanging.

A few seconds later, Merlin felt the restraints disappear and just about managed to conceal his sigh of relief and his renewed panic at his current situation. He looked back and forth between his two captors –there was no doubt anymore that was what they were- and then carefully touched his head again. A decision crept through his mind. Perhaps biding his time would be the best plan for now. After all, he had no memory of where he was or what he had been doing, no knowledge of possible friends or family that could help him, side from his mother. Not to mention the fact that there didn't seem to be anyone else coming to find him.

A shudder passed through him as he realised that he was completely and utterly alone.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter out; crazy Friday night! Thank you for the reviews, as always; they're great to read and I really appreciate them.

I've realised that I haven't mentioned the new series of Merlin here, but (without mentioning any spoilers) I'm really enjoying series five! Colin Morgan and Bradley James are such good actors and they really get to show it this time round! Just wanted to say.

Here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 4**

Arthur lay on his bed, both arms curled around Guinevere as she sobbed into his chest. He kissed her hair and pulled her closer, all the while trying to stave off his own tears. But it was a fight he was loosing. He buried his head in her hair, his body shaking as he tried to swallow down the cries that threatened to burst from his throat.

He had hated everything about the day, everything. From waking up in the morning and feeling pain tear through his chest so quickly as he remembered the events of the previous day, to coming back into his chambers as night fell to find Guinevere all but screaming the agony of her emotions.

He had woken that morning to the sound of the knights packing up the camp. They hadn't woken him and he was glad for it. He was grateful for the few extra minutes of oblivion, even if they did nothing to numb the grief that tore through him as soon as he reached full awareness. The first image that went through his mind as he woke was the one of Merlin falling. It snapped him awake instantly and he scrambled to try and fill his mind with other things, but in the end he had to wait out the sudden onslaught. He lay there, gasping and taking deep steady breaths until the wave of grief passed.

They left the camp quickly, but not before Arthur took one last trip down to the river's edge, hoping desperately that he would find the one thing that he was looking for. But the waters didn't reveal anything. So it was that they began their trek back to Camelot in the bright morning light. Arthur wanted it to be grey and wet and miserable, but the sun shone selfishly, bringing Camelot into view on the horizon far sooner than Arthur had expected. Far sooner than he had wanted.

That last hour had been terrible. The ache in Arthur's chest was joined by a gnawing in his stomach at what was to come, at the news he would have to share with the people up ahead of him. He didn't want that job; he didn't want to be the one to destroy the people who loved Merlin so unconditionally, but he was the King. He was Merlin's master; he was Merlin's friend. He had been the last one to see him and the first one to scream in denial. He had to do this.

He hadn't planned anything as he approached the gates. He had started to, but he didn't want his words to sound rehearsed; didn't want that detachment to echo in them. Of course, he had to remain professional; he didn't have the luxury of breaking down in Camelot's court yard -his people could not be allowed to see the inner turmoil- but he wasn't about to deliver the news like some distant master who didn't feel the pain.

Even so, Gaius' reaction had nearly ripped away his façade of acceptance. The old man had been waiting in the courtyard, having seen the party approaching. Arthur knew the moment the physician noticed his ward's absence, because he dropped his arms to his side and took several panicked steps forwards. As Arthur got closer, he offered no smile, nothing that would give false hope, and he watched the man's face grow pale and fearful, so that by the time Arthur dismounted from his horse, Gaius was trembling in front of him, his hands clasped tightly together.

'Sire?' he asked, his voice struggling with the word. Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn't come out. Instead, he shook his head and took several deep breaths to free his throat. Even so, when he spoke, his voice was not strong.

'We lost him, Gaius. I'm sorry.' He swallowed as the man visibly flinched at the words. A look of confusion and disbelief crossed his face and Arthur knew he was going to argue. He continued before that could happen; he didn't want to have to answer any questions. 'His horse was spooked by a snake along the top of the Aldon ravine; it threw him off. He went over the edge.' The trembling in Gaius' hands spread to his whole body and his breathing suddenly accelerated. 'Gaius, I'm sorry,' Arthur continued, feeling his control wavering. 'We tried to find his…we tried to find him, but there was no trace.'

Around him, Arthur became aware of shocked whispers. Other servants had been in the courtyard and had heard what he'd said. Their faces were stony; their expressions full of disbelief and sorrow. Everyone knew Merlin, Arthur was well aware of that. His loss would ripple across the castle. But Arthur's attention was soon pulled back to Gaius. The man had taken a few steps back, his face still etched with confusion, but a moment later, he backed up to the steps of the castle and sank down onto them. He said nothing, made no sound, but Arthur felt his heart wrench as tears began to flow down the man's face. They had no accompanying cries, but each one that fell to the ground pounded into Arthur. Gaius' grief was building up inside; the only outward sign being the tears that had forced their way to the surface.

Arthur wanted to comfort him, but he needed to get to Guinevere. She couldn't hear about Merlin from the servants. Instead, he left Leon and Gwaine with the physician, hoping they would be able to offer a small measure of comfort.

He had found Guinevere in their chambers, preparing for a council meeting that had been scheduled for that morning to coincide with their arrival. She turned at the sound of the door opening, a smile spreading across her face instantly. She rushed over to him and flung her arms around him.

'Arthur! I've missed you. I wasn't expecting you for another few hours.' He held her tightly, revelling in the feel of having her close to him again, of being able to touch her and see her, but in the familiarity and comfort of her embrace, he felt his carefully placed barriers beginning to crumble. She began to pull away, but he didn't let her go. Instead he held onto her even more tightly, never wanting to be parted from her. He felt the tension rise in her instantly.

'Arthur? Arthur what is it?' she asked.

'I just need you to stay here for a moment,' he whispered.

'Arthur, you're scaring me.' She pushed him back gently and looked at him. The change in her expression was instantaneous. Arthur didn't know what it was she was seeing as she looked at him, but it was enough to bring fear flooding into her features.

'What's happened? What is it?' she asked more firmly, her fingers digging into his forearms where she clung to him.

'Merlin,' Arthur managed to tell her.

'He's hurt? Is he alright?'

Arthur shook his head, pressing his lips together when he realised he wouldn't be able to speak, but Guinevere understood straight away.

'No, no, no,' she whispered, shaking her head fiercely at Arthur. 'That can't be…' she took several deep breaths, searching Arthur's face, pleading with him to allay her fears, but he couldn't. 'Arthur,' she whispered, but she said nothing else. What else could be said?

He had stayed with her for as long as he could, but he had searches to organise, a council meeting to chair and a meeting of the round table to run. In the end, he had left her with a maid and had called Elyan up. That was all he could do at that moment, as much as he wanted to stay with her and cry with her.

Then had been the organisation of the searches. Percival had begun to gather the men, but in an attempt to get things started as quickly as possible, groups were dispatched as soon as they arrived in the courtyard. It meant that Arthur had to repeat the instructions to them over and over again, had to tell them over and over again what had happened. It was hard, too hard in the end; he found the detachment creeping into his voice; he couldn't help but employ it if he wanted to be able to keep himself going. That in turn had heaped guilt on him. He had said he would not become detached, but the necessity to function made that promise impossible to keep. He couldn't continue without the distance; the minute he brought himself closer to the situation, he knew he would break down. He knew the grief was there, stored away, ready to surge forth at any moment and he had to delay it.

And so it was that the council meeting and the meeting of the round table were conducted with only a fleeting mention of Merlin. Everything else was about the success of Arthur's trip through Camelot's outlying regions and the progress they had made with the people. It was about new guard rotations and how they would affect the watch duties that were currently being undertaken. It was about the knights' training program and how the new candidates were faring. Everything was about avoiding speaking of Merlin and so, in the end, everything became about him; whether it was in the looks that were being directed at him by those gathered, or the way his closest knights kept on drifting off into their own thoughts, or the absence of his manservant just behind him, water jug in hand, barely managing to conceal sighs of boredom.

Arthur felt himself drifting further and further away from the situation, just to be able to continue as he knew he had to, because a King did not let grief stop him from performing his duties. He would never have that luxury.

By the time the day drew to its close, Arthur had rethought his stance on detachment to the situation. If today was anything to go by, then detachment was his only option.

But then he had walked into his chambers and seen his wife lying on their bed, curled in on herself, a pillow clutched to her chest so tightly that he was surprised she could breathe, and her cries echoing around the room. She had looked up as he came in and all he could do was lie down next to her on the bed and hold her, all the while feeling himself being pulled closer and closer to his grief once more.

It took a very long time for her to drift off to sleep and when she did, Arthur found that he couldn't. His mind was too full of Merlin, much as he tried to empty it of his manservant. But he soon realised that would be impossible; how could he ever cast from his mind someone who he had seen nearly every single day for the past six years? Practically every memory that Arthur had of the recent past was linked to Merlin, and as the future was distinctly hazy at the moment, he was unable to look ahead to a time that Merlin wasn't a part of. He didn't want to look ahead to a time where Merlin wasn't there. He couldn't face that… not yet.

But with no future ahead and the past being so painful to recall, Arthur found his thoughts turning to the accident itself. He knew it was a mistake to start considering it, but once the idea was there, he found he could do little to control where his mind took him.

He should have got off his horse sooner. That was what everything came down to in the end. He had hesitated, believing that dismounting would make things worse, but it would have been Merlin's salvation. It would have meant a terrifyingly close call rather than the horrendous tragedy that had unfolded. It would have been the difference between life and death. That was the conclusion Arthur came to; a conclusion which could only be followed up by one thing.

This was his fault.

* * *

Arthur had assumed that Merlin dying would be the hard thing, and it was -there was no doubt there- but it soon became clear to him that the living which came after the dying was much more difficult. In death there was a suspension of everything normal, just for awhile. Where emotions were not expected to be so shielded, where duties and responsibilities could be lessened slightly, for a time.

But then came living. The inevitable movement forward into a world that, despite all expectations to the contrary, did carry on much as it had before.

Living was what Arthur found hard. And sometimes laughing. And sometimes breathing. Other times it was easy and he began to believe that maybe he too could carry on as he had done before. But then the grief would catch up with him -often at unexpected times- and he found it difficult to believe that things could be normal again. Because they weren't normal. Not the old normal, anyway.

A new, emptier normal began to take shape for Arthur.

The new normal involved sharing looks with Guinevere several times a day, silently asking if she was alright; silently pleading with her to tell him that he would be. The new normal involved waking up every morning and being given a few seconds of forgetful bliss before reality reasserted itself.

The new normal involved carrying out duties that suddenly seemed a lot less important; there was a grim determination behind them, backed up only by the knowledge that he needed to carry them out, not the keen desire to carry them out that had been part of his old normal.

It involved going to visit Gaius' –and Merlin's- quarters every day, only to find them empty. The old physician had asked for permission to go to Ealdor and stay with Hunith for a few weeks. Arthur had granted it without question, adding his own letter to be given to her. He told himself that he'd allowed the court physician to go because the man needed to, but Arthur knew deep down that it was because he couldn't bear to see the sadness on the man's face.

According to Leon, Gaius had asked question after question about the accident in the days afterwards. He had needed to know every little detail, though he hadn't asked Arthur. He was grateful to the physician for understanding the difficulty that would have posed.

New normal meant being waited on by a servant who was the complete and utter opposite of Merlin. Arthur had chosen his new employee himself, picking him out of the candidates based entirely on the fact that he was the furthest from Merlin that there was.

The boy was young and nervous. He had a stockiness to him that enabled him to carry out all the heavier tasks that his job required, but he was several inches shorter than Merlin. He said nothing aside from the supplications that were expected off him, and he carried out his tasks without comment or complaint. He was all but invisible and Arthur preferred it that way. He made no effort to talk to the boy, aside from giving him instructions and thanking him for a job well done, and the boy showed no interest in adding more to their interactions.

The new normal was lonely. Arthur quickly became very aware of that. He had not felt lonely before. Yes, he had often told Merlin that being King was lonely, but he realised now that he hadn't had a clue what he was talking about. Because how could he ever have considered himself lonely when Merlin was right there next to him through everything? No, the new normal was lonely. Of course there was Guinevere, but he was trying desperately to be strong for her. She had encouraged him to talk, and he had shared some of his thoughts, but he knew how much it pained her to listen to him talking about Merlin, mostly because –as she had said once or twice- she knew how much the loss affected him. He didn't want to increase her pain by forcing her to bear the burden of his as well, and so, for the most part, he kept his thoughts to himself.

He had considered, at one point, talking to the knights, but for all their friendship, he was still their King and leader. It was not good to show too much of his anguish. And besides, each of them seemed to be dealing with their grief in their own way. Leon had taken to sharing much more of the leadership roles with Arthur than he had done in the past, and Arthur had done nothing to stop him; knowing that he needed the extra support. Percival had thrown himself into continuing the searches for Merlin until Arthur had decided to call them off four days after their arrival back in Camelot. Elyan had taken to spending lots of time with Guinevere, for which Arthur was grateful, and Gwaine had all but disappeared. He turned up for training and duties, but when he wasn't required for those, he left the castle. Arthur didn't know if he was drinking himself into a stupor every night, or just roaming the streets, but he hadn't got the courage to face him, not least because the man's words about making Merlin's death count rang round his head every day. He still didn't know how he could do it.

Yes, the new normal was many things, but the worst thing about the new normal was what it _wasn't_. And it wasn't compiled of Merlin. He was in people's thoughts every day -Arthur knew that. But he wasn't there.

Arthur missed him. Missed him more than he ever would have thought possible -and he had thought that it would be a lot. And in many ways, it wasn't the lack of constant bickering that he had always enjoyed because it made him feel like he wasn't just a King, but a person; it wasn't the sarcastic comments or feigned complaints or stupid jokes that Merlin had constantly voiced, much to Arthur's concealed amusement. It wasn't those things that Arthur missed –as much as he longed for them.

He just missed Merlin being there.

He missed the companionship that his friend had provided. They had spent so much time together that often they could walk or ride or sit in silence for hours –though Merlin had always thrown in some conversation- just at ease with the fact that the other was there. Because Merlin always _had_ been there. In everything: in the background; shouting his protests; offering his support. In fact, Arthur realised very quickly that he had never once expected Merlin not to be there.

And now he wasn't.

To Arthur, it felt like something was missing from him. Not missing: something had gone, never to be reclaimed. Yet, at the same time, Arthur could feel the expectation in him. He had thought this feeling would go after the memorial service for Merlin –a service that Arthur just about managed to conduct and struggle through- but even with that closure, the expectancy didn't disappear. He knew he was waiting for Merlin to come back; he could feel it, despite the absurdity of the thought. He was waiting to see him again; waiting to wake up to his overly-cheerful 'good mornings'. Waiting for him to make it clear once more that he would be at Arthur's side regardless.

That was what Arthur was waiting for, and that was the false hope that was slowly beginning to die with each silent exchange between himself and his new servant, with each absent sarcastic remark, with each trip he made outside the castle with only his knights by his side.

It would be gone soon, of that Arthur was sure, and he didn't know what he would do then.

All he knew was that somewhere along the way, _new normal_ would just have to be _normal_, and there was nothing that he could do to change it.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Here's the next update. I'm glad you seem to be enjoying it and thank you so much for the reviews. I feel, in myself, that the story is moving quite slowly, but just want to assure you that things will begin moving forward in the next few chapters. You should be able to see it all starting in this one though!

Also, I'm not exactly sure where I want to story to go as it moves further along and, as such, the synopsis might change slightly. Just wanted to make you aware in case you think you've been lured in under false pretences!

Anyway, enough rambling from me. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The heavy clunking of footsteps on stone awoke Merlin from his sleep as it had done everyday since his arrival in the castle of Cyathia. He sighed and turned over, putting the pillow over his head in an attempt to shut the sound out, but it was predictably useless and soon he found himself sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.

He had been there two weeks now, and in that period, thoughts of biding his time and escaping back to Ealdor had begun to fade. Not because the possibility wasn't there -Merlin was quickly realising that if he really wanted to get away, no-one would be able to stop him- but because the castle, the people, the life, was beginning to become familiar to him in a way that nothing else seemed to be at the moment. On top of that, he was being treated remarkably well. No dungeons, or stale food. He was being treated as a guest –not a really important one, but a guest nonetheless.

His room was also more than comfortable. It had a bed -a novelty that he still hadn't quite got used to, not after spending his life so far sleeping on the ground- not to mention several thick rugs, a writing table, a fireplace and a chest of drawers; they were, admittedly, empty, but Merlin couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he had them at his disposal.

No, it really wasn't that bad.

Where the people were concerned, Merlin was also finding himself beginning to build relationships that –while not quite at that stage yet- could become friendships in the future. Steven, the younger man who had captured Merlin had proved himself to be just as irritating as he had been by the river and Merlin was not sad to see less of him, but James, on the other hand, was quickly becoming –if not a friend- an acquaintance that Merlin was beginning to trust more and more. The man's down the line attitude and views, which had made him sound so cold when Merlin first met him, meant that if Merlin had questions, James didn't waste energy or words being patronising. If he was willing to give an answer then he gave it straight away, if not, he made it clear that that was the case. Merlin was quickly beginning to respect his approach to situations and the authority he wielded.

For that's what he was, an authority figure, a counsellor to the King of Cyathia. Merlin got the impression that he had been an advisor to the previous King and as such had retained the position when Tiden –the then-Prince and now-King- took over. If the amount of time the man spent with the King was anything to go by, then it was clear that Tiden trusted and respected James's views. But despite his time-laden duties with the King, James came to visit Merlin every day, having been selected to be his teacher of sorts, and Merlin had discovered a lot from the man about the way the kingdom worked and its reasons for remaining isolated.

And therein lay the crux of the matter for Merlin, the reason he had made no attempt to leave and head back to Ealdor. Magic. It had become apparent within the first few days that this was a kingdom unopposed to the use of magic. Not that it was performed all over the place by any random person, but within the court, within the castle and in all areas of the kingdom, magic was an accepted skill.

The ease with which it was used stemmed from a history steeped in magical understanding. The kingdom itself had been founded by a group of sorcerers who rejected the corruption of other magic users across the land. In secret, they had built a small settlement where they could practice their art for good and for the benefit of others instead of the constant pursuit of power. James had told Merlin the story a day or so after he arrived and Merlin had felt his heart pounding at the idea, a passion flaring through his chest at the thought of magic being viewed as something good and beautiful.

He had never had that. His magic had been a secret, always a secret. The thought of anyone finding out had filled him with terror and he had assumed that because of this fear, he would never be able to use his gifts for anything other than hidden tricks. And even _they_ worried his mother. How many times had she looked at him with tears of anxiety in her eyes as he used his magic for the tinniest of things whether intentionally or accidently? She had lived under the constant fear that her only son would be found out for what he was and be dragged off for execution. Merlin loved his mother dearly, but her fear had seeped into him, leaving him feeling that his abilities were a curse that would get him killed.

But here in Cyathia, that wasn't the case. From the original settlement had sprung a city that comprised of the descendants of the sorcerers. It meant that nearly every person here had some magical ability. Of course, that had been the reason for the secrecy that surrounded the kingdom; it was a small land, weak from a military perspective and with a law that forbade harming others with magic; the kingdom was vulnerable to attack, especially now that magic had been banned in most of the land. If anyone found out about Cyathia's focuses, it would stand little chance.

As it stood, King Tiden and his advisors were relatively certain that Cyathia's magical foundations had remained a secret from the rest of Albion. The one exception was the druids. According to James, they were aware of Cyathia's sympathies, but when Merlin asked whether there was some sort of alliance between the two peoples, the man had shook his head.

'Over the years, Cyathia has attempted to forge relations with the druids, but they are a secretive people.'

'Sounds familiar,' Merlin told him wryly. For once, the man cracked a smile.

'The druids do not wish to share their understanding and powers with another kingdom, and those are terms that Cyathia will not accept.'

'If there were envoys or treaties though…?' Merlin suggested. 'Surely it would be better to join with the druids? They are the most magical people alive.'

'Their ways and their rituals do not match the views that Cyathia has on how magic should be used and monitored,' James said shaking his head. 'Their magic does not move them forwards; they remain locked in ancient traditions. Cyathia wishes, always, to move forward in its use of magic for society. It is enough for us that they keep our true focuses to themselves.'

Merlin had mulled over the words several times, wondering if there were druids out there who would happily join Cyathia, but he knew very little about them himself, only what he had heard through rumours and hearsay.

The secrecy of Cyathia, therefore, seemed to be very much intact, and Merlin found it easy to see why: entry and exit into and out of the kingdom were very closely monitored and any new travellers that happened upon the land were fully and carefully examined and interrogated before being granted access. The whole kingdom was locked down against those who saw magic as a curse and an evil. Magical barriers were in place in many different forms to ensure the continuing safety of the citizens and their way of life.

All this, Merlin had been told with no reservations, which, he realised, meant that he too was being entrusted with the secret. At first, he hadn't understood why they would put so much faith in a stranger, but it soon became obvious.

They knew that he would feel happy here. They knew that he would feel accepted. They knew that he would feel free.

And he did.

After their initial talk in the castle, James had brought Merlin several magic books from his own personal collection. Merlin had stared at them with awe and no small amount of fear. In many other places, just having books like these in your possession meant execution, yet here they were freely available.

'Go on then,' James had told him.

'What?' Merlin asked, just managing to drag his eyes away from the leather bound volume.

'You're a sorcerer, perform a spell.'

'But…' Merlin moved to open the book, but changed his mind. 'I've never used any spells. I don't know how they work or what to do.'

'What do you mean you haven't used any spells? How did you learn your magic?' Merlin shook his head and shrugged.

'It was just there. I could just use it -not always very accurately- but I didn't need to say anything.'

'Not even saying a spell in your head?'

'No. I don't know any.'

At a long silence from James, Merlin found himself looking up at the man, only to find he was studying Merlin with an expression of thoughtful contemplation.

'Is that unusual?'

'Yes,' the man nodded, causing Merlin to frown in surprise. 'Let's see how you do with spells. Can you read?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' The man took the book from Merlin and began to flick through the pages. Merlin looked on eagerly, entranced by the beauty of the words and drawings, noticing the runes that bordered every leaf of paper. 'How powerful is your magic?'

'Not very,' Merlin told him. 'I can't do much.'

'You're sure?'

'From what I can remember.'

'What about what you can't remember?' Merlin shrugged. Perhaps he had become more powerful over the past five or six years, for that was how far they had decided Merlin's memory loss went, based on big events across Albion he could remember and on the calendars of Cendred's kingdom and Cyathia's. James studied him for several more seconds and then placed the book in front of him, open on a page that showed flames arranged into a variety of shapes and images. 'Try this one. Conjuring the flame should be easy, but manipulating it will take far more skill.'

'How do I do it?' Merlin asked, scanning the words.

'I'm not telling you; I want to see what you can do on your own.'

Merlin had nodded in determination, trying to keep the grin off his face at the thought of what he was doing: using a spell for no other reason than because he could. He took several deep breaths and mouthed the words to himself. As soon as he felt like he'd memorised them, he turned to face the middle of the room and stood up, raising his hand –something that he had never done before when doing magic, but which somehow felt right- and spoke the words, fully expecting them to produce nothing more than a few sputtering sparks of fire, despite the effort he could feel himself putting into it.

What he got instead rendered him speechless. Instantly, a huge flame appeared, not in his hand as he had expected it to, but in front of him: a fiery ball of raging heat, taller than him. Somehow, he was protected from it, and, as he turned to James' shocked face, he saw that the man was also unaffected by the flames. Part of Merlin had wanted to drop his hand and end the spell right there, but instead, he found himself completing it, being more extravagant than he had planned to be because of the success of the initial part. As he finished his words, the fire began to move and twist until a dragon -its wings out and its mouth screaming yet more fire- stood in the room with them. The details were exquisite: each scale was defined, the claws were sharp and curved; there were even imperfections on the beast as if it had been in some terrible battle. Merlin was awed at the precision of the creation; after all, he had never seen a dragon.

Eventually, he let the spell fall, and the dragon and flames disappeared, leaving only a room which, although being very warm, showed no signs of the scorching or burning that Merlin had expected. He turned back to James, sure that the man would have been impressed with the display –Merlin definitely was- but his expression went beyond being impressed. He studied Merlin again, but this time with a respect and curiosity that Merlin had never been on the receiving end of in his entire life. A spark of pride went through him; a feeling of worth.

'Not powerful, you say?' James asked.

'I'd never have thought…' he laughed, looking back at where the dragon had been.

'You are powerful, Merlin, and I think it's safe to say that you haven't been anywhere near Ealdor in the last few years. Somebody's been teaching you.'

'In Camelot?'

'I don't know, but I want you to continue your studies here.'

'I'd love to,' Merlin nodded, before he'd even thought about what he was saying. Was it really that easy to throw aside a lifetime of secrecy and caution and just start studying –or, apparently, continue studying- magic? He thought back to the dragon, thought about what he had been able to do, the way James had looked at him like he meant something. 'When can I start?' he asked.

* * *

The more Merlin studied magic, the more he realised that James was right: he hadn't been in Ealdor for the past few years. There was no way he could have gained the magical skills he seemed to possess, in his tiny village. No, he had been somewhere else entirely and it must have been for a while. The thought gave him comfort, it meant that his mother was unlikely to know he had disappeared and as such wouldn't be worrying –no more than she usually did anyway. It gave him the chance to redevelop his skills without feeling guilty about the fact that he was leaving his loved ones in the dark.

And they were impressive skills indeed. Merlin had to admit it to himself. Time and time again he surprised everyone, himself included, with what he could do using magic. Many spells that took others weeks and months to perfect worked for him after his first attempt. He was soon given permission to use a training room in which to practice so that he could try bigger and more powerful spells and he met the challenges with ease. Under James' watchful tutelage, Merlin learnt how to control and direct his magic, but even James' admitted that he was doing little more than recapping all the things that Merlin instinctually seemed to know when it came to using magic.

As the days went on, Merlin soon found that he had an audience to his training sessions; people watching him and congratulating him and complementing him. Not long after that he found himself answering questions about magic and teaching people some of the spells. And the longer he was there, the more he felt like he was meant to be. This was a place where someone like him could live out his life to its full potential not cowering under the rule of kings and queens who were afraid of what they could not understand.

Here in Cyathia, he felt like he was with a family of sorts. Before long, he was being invited to the taverns or training with other sorcerers who accepted him instantly. He also found himself watching several magical duels –friendly ones of course- which were regularly carried out. It was at one of these events that he first met Peter. Peter, who had been all but useless in his duelling match. It was the luck –or the unluckiness- of the draw that some people in Cyathia had been born without the magical potential of their parents. But they were not treated as lepers in any way; the communities found ways in which their limited skills could be used and pushed.

Peter, however, hated the fact that his abilities weren't up to the standards of others. He had lost his duel and then thrown himself down next to Merlin with a huff of resignation and disappointment.

'It really isn't fair,' he had started saying, despite the fact that Merlin had never talked to him before. He vaguely remembered that the boy was a stable hand at the castle. 'My parents both work in agriculture; they keep five thousand acres of crops free from diseases with their magic, and what do I do?' He snapped his fingers and muttered some words; a tiny flame appeared in his palm, but it flickered and died within seconds. 'It's really not fair.' Merlin hadn't known exactly what to say, deciding that it probably wasn't the time to mention that his powers were slightly more impressive, but the boy continued for him. 'Peter,' he said, holding out his hand.

'I'm Merlin,' he replied, shaking it. Peter's eyes went wide.

'You're Merlin?'

'Erm…yes?' he felt like he should question the boy's confusion. Surely there wasn't another Merlin. The unusualness of his name had always been something that he'd prided himself on. It was the only thing that made him stand out.

'As in the visitor to the castle who can do anything with magic?'

_Oh._ Merlin swallowed down a sigh and inwardly cursed Steven. The man, despite barely being around, had made it his personal mission to embarrass Merlin whenever he could. He sometimes appeared, with his lackeys –for that's what they seemed to be to Merlin-, in the training room when Merlin was there and started going on in mocking tones about how fantastic Merlin was and how everyone should bow down to his superior skills. Merlin hated it. He wasn't sure what it sprung from, whether jealousy or fear or just plain nastiness, but the man's words seemed to have spread around the castle quite quickly. When people first met him, they seemed to expect an arrogant self-righteous sorcerer. It didn't take them long to figure out that Steven was just being an idiot, but nonetheless, it was irritating. And evidently, word was beginning to spread outside the castle.

'I can't do _anything_,' Merlin told him quickly.

'No, I've heard what people have said. Can I see something?'

'It's really not that-'

'Don't give me that,' he said pointedly. 'I heard about the storm in the castle. You made it rain inside.'

'It really wasn't that-'

'And don't even get me started on the invisibility.'

'Alright, alright,' Merlin whispered, trying to hush him; people were beginning to look.

'You'll show me?' he asked hopefully.

'I suppose I could…' he began, wondering whether this was such a good idea.

As it turned out, it was a good idea. As soon as Peter had gotten over his initial awe, he turned out to be exactly the person Merlin needed. James was brilliant, but he was hardly a conversationalist. Peter, on the other hand, would sit and talk about absolutely anything. They quickly became friends, despite the fact that Merlin –although he felt like he was roughly the same age as the boy- was seven years older than him. That didn't seem to matter, however, and soon Peter was a regular visitor to the castle and to Merlin's training sessions. It gave him an even stronger sense of belonging.

Thoughts of his missing memories, however, did distract him regularly. Yes, he felt at home in Cyathia, but surely wherever he had come from had felt like home as well. Unless of course, he had been running away from that life; maybe that was why he had ended up half dead in a river.

Merlin found himself believing more and more that the missing memories would hold nothing more than a difficult past where he had been using his magic in ways that he wouldn't approve of. The signs on his body were enough to convince him that whatever he had been doing had been dangerous and full of conflict. There were scars everywhere; scars that he had no recollection of receiving. On his chest was what looked like a burn scar; a small circle as if he had been hit full in the chest. On his scalp, he could feel numerous imperfections that had not been there before. His shoulder had a deep scar which looked like it had been caused by a weapon. Not to mention all the others.

What worried him most was what he had been in the past. He couldn't imagine ever being someone who would hurt others, but all evidence pointed to the contrary. It made him shudder. Had he been a sorcerer for hire? Someone to do the dirty work of those without magic? Surely not; it went against everything in him, but there was still a nagging doubt. As time passed, he realised that he didn't want the memories to return. He wanted to be here in Cyathia, creating a new life for himself.

* * *

'Has Sir Gwaine been found yet?' Arthur asked the guards at the castle entrance for the third time that morning. The apologetic shake of their heads and general responses to the contrary caused Arthur to fist his hands in frustration, but he showed nothing of his agitation to the men and instead nodded his thanks and went inside.

He paused for a moment in the corridor, unsure of where to go; he could go and speak with various council members about the upcoming meeting, but he knew his mind would not be able to focus on anything for very long; it hadn't so far this morning. Guinevere had come into their chambers after her morning walk to find him pacing them, a frown of concentration on his face. She had asked him what was wrong, but this was something that he wanted to share with Gwaine first; after all, it was the knight who had planted the seed in Arthur's mind.

Instead, he had kissed Guinevere goodbye and told her that he was going out into the town. The plan had been to find Gwaine quickly and spend the morning outlining his idea, but the knight was proving as elusive as he had been for the past two weeks and no amount of searching taverns or asking Camelot's citizens had enabled him to find the man. It was a little frustrating.

Eventually, Arthur decided to head for the meeting room. That would no doubt be one of the first places Gwaine would go once he got the message that Arthur was looking for him. He strode purposefully down the corridors, trying to emit an air of preoccupation –which wasn't difficult in his current state- to avoid having to talk to anyone. It worked, and he reached the meeting room quickly.

'Where have you been?' came a loud voice as Arthur pulled open the doors. There, sat at the roundtable, with his feet up on it, was Gwaine. Arthur gave him a look, which he hoped was piercing, and shut the doors.

'I could ask you the same thing,' he retorted. 'How are the knights meant to find you in an emergency?'

'I'll turn up, don't worry. Got a nose for trouble.'

'I can believe that.' He took up a seat next to Gwaine and pointedly looked at the man's feet on the table. He got the message and slowly, with a grin on his face, put his feet back down on the floor.

'So, how can I help?' he smiled. Arthur took several seconds to compose his thoughts. He had gone through his plan, and how he would explain it, hundreds of times in his head, but now it came to actually voicing it, he feared that it would sound ridiculous.

'I've been thinking about what you said,' he began eventually.

'I say a lot.'

'About Merlin and making his death count.' Instantly, the knight's face sobered and he sat up a little straighter. He evidently hadn't been expecting Merlin to be the topic of conversation. It was understandable; Arthur couldn't remember mentioning Merlin to anyone, save Guinevere, in the past fortnight since it had happened. Everything was still too raw for him and he found it hard to control his emotions if he let Merlin fill his thoughts too regularly.

'Oh. You've come up with something?'

'I think so, but it's…' Arthur shook his head. '…it's not an easy task.'

'What is it?'

Arthur took a deep breath before continuing. 'The night before Merlin...before he died, we had been talking about the future…about Albion's future. I told him that I wanted the whole land to be working together; to be united. And he said…' Arthur laughed quietly and shook his head, remembering the easy faith that Merlin had shown.

'He said you should do it?'

'Basically,' he nodded. 'He told me it was a good dream and that if anyone could do it, I could.'

'Course he did,' Gwaine shrugged, looking at Arthur as if he was saying the most obvious thing in the world. 'Merlin believed in you more than anyone.' Arthur stared at the ancient wood of the round table, tracing some of the patterns with his fingers. He allowed Gwaine's words to sink in.

'I know,' he nodded after several seconds.

'He always saw something in you, even from way back when I first met him. Everybody else thought you were an arrogant, spoilt, cocky royal. But not Merlin.'

'I think he probably did think that,' Arthur murmured. 'He just…'

'Saw past it?' Gwaine ventured, his tone gentle.

This time Arthur didn't reply, he couldn't. This was why he was so careful when it came to picking his moments to remember Merlin; he couldn't keep the grief at bay well enough to function.

'So is that the plan then?' Gwaine asked a few moments later. His tone was carefree and relaxed again, giving Arthur the distance that was needed. 'Just unite the land?'

'_Just_ unite the land?' Arthur asked him incredulously.

'Well you must have called me in here for some reason. I'm assuming that it was to tell me that was the plan.'

'I haven't got a clue how to do it,' he admitted.

'I really don't think I'm your best political strategist,' Gwaine told him, putting his hands behind his head. 'Tell you what, as painful as it is, tell me what you think Merlin would have suggested. He was always giving you his opinion.'

Arthur considered the words. Gwaine was right, Merlin would have had plenty of ideas about how to go about uniting the land; probably a few stupid ones, but there would have been some incredibly wise ones in there as well.

'He'd have wanted promises of peace to be given and received,' Arthur began hesitantly. 'And he'd have picked the most politically and strategically useless places.'

'Why?' Gwaine frowned.

'Because he'd have picked the ones that most needed our help,' he said with a small laugh.

'Well, why not start there?'

'But then what?'

'Bigger and better I suppose, get different kingdoms on side, make them understand why it's worthwhile, make peace, promise security, send them expensive gifts to show good will. Isn't that what kings do?'

Arthur laughed at him, keeping comments to himself about the difference between knights of noble birth and those that came from less fortunate backgrounds. It definitely wasn't as simple as that, but all those ideas were a start. He went and picked up a map from the cupboard at the end of the room and unrolled it across the roundtable, looking at the different kingdoms and territories that made up Albion. Which places would be best to start with? Before he did anything, he'd have to get his current allies on board. The five kingdom peace treaty meant that ideas such as this had to be shared. Yes; that would have to be his starting point; the lands with which he was already united.

He felt a hand press onto his shoulder and turned to see Gwaine smiling down at him, no arrogance or joking in his expression.

'This will make it count. You do this because of Merlin, and it'll make his death count.'

'Thank you, Gwaine.'

'Nah, thank Merlin,' he grinned.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: As always, thank you so much for the reviews. They're lovely to read. Anybody else a tad upset by the Merlin news? I am kinda sad, but at least it'll go out on a high, rather than trailing off like so many other shows have done.

Anyway, on to this chapter. This is a tad unchecked, so apologies in advance for typos! Let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 6**

'Who wants to talk to me?' Merlin blustered, staring at James with wide eyes, his hand still stretched out from his attempt at producing an illusion that affected Peter.

'You heard what I said,' James told him, making no attempt to play along with his dramatics.

'But…why?' He dropped his hands. 'Why would the king want to talk to me?' He looked over at Peter, but he was just grinning manically at the idea.

'King Tiden has been following your progress closely through my reports.'

'You've been reporting about me?'

'Everybody's been reporting about you,' Peter answered before James could say a word. 'You do realise that you're a key topic of conversation, don't you. Not so much now perhaps, but-'

'Merlin,' James said, cutting Peter off. The two of them didn't really see eye to eye on…well, anything really. 'You are a new arrival in a kingdom that is careful to investigate its citizens, you have been a guest in the castle and you seem to have the most powerful incarnation of magic that has been seen in this land for a long long time. The king, therefore, wishes to speak to you.'

Merlin swallowed heavily and moved to lean against the wall.

'I really don't think it's a good idea. I wouldn't know how to speak to a king.'

'You just say words like you would to anyone else,' Peter offered, lying down on the bench that was pushed up against another wall of the training room.

'No, I mean what do I do? Do I bow; nod my head; kiss his ring?'

'I believe you are over thinking this.' James told him. 'To be chosen to speak with the king is a high honour; you must not even consider refusing it.'

'No, of course not,' Merlin said, shaking his head, but it did little to calm his nerves. Him, a simple peasant, being granted an audience with a king? It was unheard of and completely unexpected. Merlin hadn't given the fact that he was staying in the castle with the king much thought. He had never seen the man and he had barely heard him mentioned. Yes, often James would say that he needed to go and speak to the king or had just arrived from speaking with him, but aside from that King Tiden had remained something of a mystery. He seemed to be as insular as his kingdom was and that made Merlin nervous.

'When am I to speak with him?'

'Straight away.'

'Right now?' he blustered. He looked down at his clothes, the same browns, blues and reds that he had been wearing since he arrived. He had been offered new clothes, of course, but he rejected them in favour of wearing something that was connected to the past he remembered. They were items that really were his; he even remembered his mother making them for him. They had worn well, that was for sure, but he wasn't convinced that they were appropriate to wear while speaking to royalty.

'Your clothes are fine,' James told him, walking over to the door and holding it open. 'So if you're ready…'

'Do you want me to come? You know: moral support?' Peter asked, but Merlin could hear the grin in his tone. He was only trying to wind James up. The man, however, ignored the bait, as he always did, and simply gave Peter a cold look.

'Are you ready?' he asked, turning back to Merlin.

Merlin looked down at the floor for several seconds, gathering his thoughts, and then nodded. Summoning up as much confidence as he could muster, Merlin walked out of the door and allowed James to lead him to the king.

Merlin didn't know what to expect as he approached the doors to the throne room. James walked confidently ahead and Merlin tried to emulate that aura as he followed, but he knew he was failing miserably. As they arrived, James nodded at the guards to open the doors, offering them a brief explanation for Merlin's presence on the visit. They moved aside quickly, offering their own half bow to James; one that spoke of deep respect.

The room was huge and ribbed with arches all the way along. They were covered in gold plating which had been used to edge the intricate patterns that were etched into the ancient wood. The room was incredibly bright and Merlin found himself half dazzled and squinting as he stepped forward. He wondered if the intensity was intentional; there to fill visitors with a sense of awe. It worked on Merlin; the whole roomed seemed to glow for a few seconds before his eyes adjusted. He looked around, searching for the source of the light, only to find that there were no windows on the walls. He frowned in confusion; it was definitely daylight he could see. But one look up solved the mystery. He gasped in shock. The entire roof seemed to be made of glass - glass that was shaped and twisted into incredible scenes and imaginations. Merlin couldn't begin to imagine the spells and enchantments it had taken to create an entire roof of such a brittle and delicate material. The whole room breathed magical intervention.

So overwhelmed by the room was he that he almost found himself walking into James, who had knelt down before the King. Inwardly cursing his stupidity and hoping the King had missed it, Merlin followed suit and dropped to one knee, his head down. He hadn't even looked at the King yet.

'Rise.' The voice was rich and powerful; Merlin knew instantly that this was not a man who would be argued with, and yet at the same time, there was a warmth in his tone that seemed in opposition to the clear authority. Glancing over at James to check that the other man had got to his feet, Merlin stood and raised his head to look at the King.

He was an imposing man; strongly built with dark auburn hair, that was short and thick against his head, framing his face and moving down into a carefully trimmed beard and moustache. He was tall, very tall; several inches taller than Merlin. He looked every bit the steadfast leader who would ensure that his plans came to fruition. The sense of not being dressed appropriately renewed itself afresh in Merlin and he wished he'd accepted James' offer of new clothes when he'd suggested it weeks ago.

'So this is him then?' the King asked, looking Merlin over thoroughly.

'Yes, my Lord: I present Merlin to you,' James said, with an incline of his head.

'And what is your response to what we have discussed?' the King asked, fixing him with a knowing stare as he finally moved his eyes from Merlin. The reprisal from the King's scrutiny meant that Merlin could frown in confusion at the question without feeling like he was being disrespectful. What had the two of them been saying about him? For he assumed that the comment had something to do with him.

'I believe so, Sire.'

'Good,' Tiden nodded, his piercing gaze returning to Merlin. His eyes were bright as he moved back to his throne and beckoned for Merlin to come forwards with a gentle wave of his hand.

'So Merlin, how long have you been here, now?'

'Just over a months, my Lord,' Merlin replied as confidently as he could, using the title that James had at first.

'And what do you think of Cyathia?'

'I wouldn't know where to begin, Sire,' Merlin admitted with a smile that was quickly and knowingly returned. It encouraged Merlin on and he found his earlier reservations falling away. 'I never would have believed a place like this was possible; where those with magic are accepted, rather than hunted.'

'Our cause has always been to break away from chains of prejudice, to harness magical abilities for good.' He had called for wine as Merlin spoke and now took a long drink from his goblet. He nodded his servant –who seemed to have materialised from nowhere- towards Merlin and the man quickly came and offered him a drink before moving to James. In shock, Merlin accepted the wine and thanked both the servant and King for it. What was going on? Since when did a king offer a lowly peasant wine in his throne room?

'It is a very clear and noble cause, Sire,' Merlin replied after a few seconds, realising that Tiden was still waiting for a response to his last comment. The King gave a short laugh and inclined his head.

'I couldn't agree more.'

Merlin took a sip of the wine as the King spoke and marvelled at the quality of it. It wasn't that he hadn't been fed well so far; his food had been luxury compared to what he was used to, but this was something else entirely.

'What do you know of Camelot?'

The sudden change in direction, caught Merlin off guard and he took several seconds to form his response. He finished the mouthful of wine he was drinking and then stepped forwards slightly.

'Erm…as my memory serves me, I know very little,' he admitted, feeling apologetic and yet unsure of why he should. 'In my mind, King Uther is still on the throne, but I've been told that is not the case. However, I was found in Camelot, so I can only assume I knew more of it at one point.' The look on the King's face was one of thoughtful contemplation.

'Do you remember anything?'

'No, my Lord; my life of the past six years has all but vanished. I don't know how much of that time was spent in Camelot.'

'I imagine that must be frustrating.'

'It is, Sire. I have never felt so unsure of myself, and yet…' he paused and laughed slightly, shaking his head. '…that isn't true. In Cyathia, I find that…'

'That you can be who you were meant to be,' the King finished for him.

'Yes,' Merlin nodded, looking at the man in surprise. He smiled.

'We have few visitors in Cyathia, Merlin, and yet anytime a sorcerer arrives here, especially one who has been in a land against magic, their reaction is the same. And it is good,' he nodded. 'That is the society we have been building towards.'

The King stopped there and seemed to be caught up in some personal thought for a moment, but his focus still remained on Merlin, looking at him intently as if measuring him against some hidden standard. It made Merlin distinctly uncomfortable, but he forced himself not to fidget under the inspection. The King had shown him nothing but kindness and empathy and he didn't want to appear impatient.

After a short silence, Tiden sat back a little on his throne. Something seemed to have shifted in him. Merlin wasn't sure if he'd been accepted or subtly rejected, but either way, he got the impression that he was going to be in the room for some time. Fleetingly, he wished he had a chair.

'Has James told you why he was in Camelot the day he found you?' the King asked. Merlin hid his surprise at this new topic change; it was clear that the King was heading somewhere with this. In fact, the longer he was here, the more Merlin began to suspect that this wasn't simply a king wanting to meet a guest. Something deeper than that was at play and Merlin was beginning to wish that he knew what it was.

'No, my Lord.'

'And would you like to know?'

'Only if you deem it acceptable,' Merlin answered carefully. The King smiled at him approvingly and then nodded.

'I do.' With a wave of his hand, he signalled his servant and then got up from his throne. The servant quickly moved to the end of the room and opened a door there. 'Come with me,' Tiden said. Merlin glanced over at James to see that he was also preparing to go with them and for that Merlin was glad; having a familiar face gave him a sense of reassurance, no matter how small. A room change suddenly made him feel like he was going to be finding out a lot more than he bargained for. He briefly considered changing his mind, but curiosity had always been both a strength and weakness in him and he wasn't about to break the habit of a lifetime.

They moved through into what seemed to be a small meeting room. There was a table situated in the centre of it, with a seat at the end which was clearly the King's, with eight more on each side that seemed more suited to guests who weren't of a royal nature. James indicated to him where he should sit as the King made his way to the end. Meanwhile, he and James took up positions opposite each other half way down the table. James gave him a significant look to indicate that he should wait for Tiden to sit down, but he was pleased to realise that he hadn't needed to be told.

When they did sit down, Tiden continued as if there had been no break in the conversation.

'It has been Cyathia's practice for many years to send chosen citizens into various kingdoms to assess and gather information on their ways of life. In a kingdom so isolated, such practices are the only way of retaining an understanding of the outside world.'

'I can see why that would be important,' Merlin nodded when the King looked over to him 'Indeed. For some time, however, Camelot has been at the forefront of our excursions. James and Steven were on one such mission when they found you, and both have led their own teams. The reasons for this exploration are varied, but I wish for you to understand them in-part if you are to join us.'

The words sent a shiver of ice down Merlin's spine, and he suddenly realised how stupid he had been not to understand before now why he was here.

They needed him. The very idea sent a wave of uncertainty through him; he had spent enough hours worrying that his past life had involved some sort of magic-for-hire approach which had seen him do some terrible things. He couldn't risk making that possible-past a definite-future.

'Have my words upset you,' Tiden asked evenly on seeing his response, which he hadn't hidden very well. Merlin spent several seconds considering his next words.

'I'm sorry, Sire, but I didn't realise that you wished to see me to include me in your plans.'

'Does it bother you?'

'It is very… unexpected, my Lord. I don't see how I could be of use to you, or why you would trust me so easily.'

'But we can trust you, can't we?'

'Of course,' Merlin replied quickly. 'I didn't mean to suggest that you couldn't. I just…'

'Merlin,' Tiden smiled. 'You must realise how unique your gifts are. James has been keeping me updated on your progress and even I am struggling to believe some of his reports. I would be pleased to have such a man with me.'

'Forgive me Sire, that is a great honour, but…' –he ignored the look that James was giving him- 'I do not wish to fight in a…war or in a…' he cast about for words, '…a magical battle.'

'Of course, nobody wishes for that. But tell me Merlin, what would you wish to be a part of?'

Merlin considered the question carefully. He'd never really given much thought to being part of something; his life had never been destined for anything other than living in Ealdor and learning how to make a living from the land. But if he could be part of something…?

'I wish to be part of an endeavour that aims to create a society where magic is accepted and embraced rather than feared and hunted. I wish to be part of a people that welcomes and nurtures magical gifts,' he looked up at the King questioningly, wondering whether that was an answer he would accept. The smile on the man's face was clear.

'And you shall be,' he nodded. 'But you will also be part of something much greater than a small and renegade kingdom that creates a bubble of safety for people like us.'

'You have magic too?'

'I do.' He whispered a spell, his eyes glowed and droplets of what looked like liquid gold materialised in front of him, dispersing into a thin mist of shimmering beauty. He let the spell drop quickly. 'A useless trick, but a beautiful one,' he explained. Merlin nodded, but said nothing; he was still waiting to understand what he was getting himself into. 'We live in a changing world, Merlin,' he sighed after a short silence. 'A world that, sooner or later, we will be forced to interact with. And when that time comes, we will not abandon our efforts to make magic a living breathing part of our everyday life. It is too great a gift to be hidden away and used at far less than its potential. When the world reaches its next great change, we must take our magic out into the future. Do you agree?'

'I think that sounds wonderful, Sire, but I don't think I understand what you're telling me.'

'Change is coming,' he answered, his eyes losing focus for a second, before they sought out Merlin's once again. 'Change is coming and we must ensure that it is change which will build Cyathia and not destroy her. You will not remember the time before, when corrupt sorcerers ruled the lands, but our history has catalogued their greed and hatred. Cyathia was the solution to that, a haven of safety for those who would not see their gifts turned to evil.'

Tiden had leant forwards in his chair, his gaze unwavering. Something akin to awe, filled Merlin at the words; he could feel the man's presence in the room like a physical force, or perhaps not physical, more…magical. But underlying all of it was a deep seated passion; one that had burnt for years and years; one that gave Tiden purpose and identity. Merlin could see the vision in him, a vision that he would never have thought possible, and yet, somehow, sitting here, listening to a King pour out his dream, he was convinced that the future could be the one that Tiden saw.

'Cyathia shook off that tyranny,' he continued; his voice changed slightly: there was a sadness to it now, but also an anger, one that had perhaps burned alongside the passion. 'But then came a new tyranny: that of the purge; of the arrogance and ignorance of Uther Pendragon and his hatred. In much of the land, magic disappeared for fear of reprisals from him. He held back the tide of sorcerers who used magic for evil, but he also sought to destroy those whose magical use was good and innocent.

'But for all his evil, and perhaps because of it, Cyathia remained safe. For no-one would join with a kingdom like Camelot when it delivered such merciless ultimatums. Those kingdoms that did ally themselves with Uther did so for power and for politics. Cyathia was ignored and left alone, just another individual kingdom in amongst a vast array of individual kingdoms.'

'Something has changed?' Merlin asked, understanding beginning to fill him, the pieces beginning to fit, although he couldn't yet see the finished picture. What event was causing him to speak with such purpose? Was this new King –Arthur Pendragon- worse than his father? Had Uther's campaign turned into a crusade against all those with magic throughout the land?

'Not yet, but the change is beginning,' Tiden replied, his voice becoming quieter. He looked at Merlin, once again seeming to measure him. 'Uther gained his respect through fear – a respect which kept every king and kingdom at arms length. His son though…' Tiden's face crept into something that looked distinctly like uncertainty. It surprised Merlin, but it was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared. '…his son gains respect through compassion, and his respect draws kings and kingdoms to him. Change will come through unity.'

Tiden stopped there and watched Merlin, evidently waiting for his response. It made him feel slightly overwhelmed. Who was he to be giving his opinion to a king? But Tiden waited, and so Merlin began to consider the words.

'You speak of unity as if it is a bad thing,' he pressed tentatively after a while.

'Unity can be good or bad, depending on the person that is uniting everyone.'

'Forgive me, Sire, but this Arthur, doesn't sound like a bad king, if his rule is fuelled by compassion.'

'It is not his compassion that I am against. No, I admire it, especially when compared to his father's hatred.' He shook his head. 'No; it is his views on magic that I am against. They have not swayed from his father's; Camelot's laws are as strict as they have ever been. Those with magic are persecuted and killed and the King believes that magic is only ever evil. If the land unites under his banner, then the land unites against magic and Cyathia will not prevail if faced with such opposition. She will be surrounded by those sharing the Pendragon view, or she will be forced to unite as well and all that we have worked for will be gone.'

And at last, Merlin understood. Understood the future that Cyathia was facing and understood why Tiden was so concerned by one man and his ability to bring people together. The King was right: if Camelot was the land uniting all the rest, then it would be Camelot's laws that the country would have to follow. There would be room for some compromise, no doubt, but from the sounds of it, magic would not be given such treatment.

Merlin suddenly became very aware of James and Tiden watching him, but he made no effort to respond to their gazes. Instead he considered the situation again, following it through to the possible conclusions that would assure Cyathia's continuation and safety. Not all of them were conclusions that he wished to be a part of.

'How do you know that Arthur Pendragon is trying to unite the lands?' Merlin pressed, trying to work out the likelihood hood of Tiden's fears coming to light. The King looked over to James.

'Because,' the man began, taking over from his King, 'a Royal Emissary from Camelot arrived in Cyathia this morning. One of Arthur's closest knights.' Merlin's eyes widened; he had not heard of a single visitor into the kingdom in all the time he'd been here.

'We, too, were surprised,' the King nodded.

'He came to deliver a message from King Arthur,' James continued, 'inviting King Tiden and an entourage to Camelot to discuss the possibility of a treaty between our two kingdoms and to begin talks concerning a unifying treaty that covered a much greater area. Several kingdoms will be represented in Camelot during our visit.'

Merlin felt a weight press down upon him. Tiden had said that change was coming, Merlin just hadn't realised how quickly. He tried to organise his thoughts and work out what to say and what to do, but his mind had gone strangely blank and all he could feel was the pressure on his life to commit to something bigger than himself. It was a strange feeling, one that Ealdor had never nurtured in him. All he had had to be part of in Ealdor was his community and he hadn't been brilliant at it anyway. But though the feeling was strange, it was not completely unfamiliar. Something deep inside him felt the pull of playing a part bigger than the one he'd picked for himself. Perhaps he did have a destiny that lay beyond who he was at the moment. He shook his head, not wanting to consider such thoughts.

'What is it that you are asking me to do?' he asked instead, looking between the two of them.

'I want you in my entourage.'

'To do what?' Merlin asked, his tone coming out more sharply than he had meant. Tiden paused for several seconds before answering.

'What are you willing to do?'

'It's more what I'm not willing to do,' Merlin answered as respectfully as he could. An expression that Merlin couldn't read crossed Tiden's face and for the first time, Merlin felt unsure of the King's benevolence, but it disappeared quickly.

'Go on,' he nodded.

'I don't want to be part of a war; I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want my actions to be ones that I would look back on in shame.'

'Few can afford such moral luxury,' Tiden told him quietly. Merlin said nothing, but lowered his gaze from Tiden's for several seconds. He was making demands to a King who had allowed him into his kingdom and treated him very well. He knew that he was taking liberties. 'It is not in my mind to start a war.' The King continued. 'That, more than anything, would confirm people's views on the corrupt nature of magic. But myself and my counsel are under no illusions: this unification, as it stands at the moment, can not be allowed to follow through.'

Several moments of silence followed. A harder edge had come into Tiden's passion now, more of a desperation. Merlin took several deep breaths; he didn't know what to do.

'I'm sorry, Sire, but I need time to think. Would that be permissible?'

'I would not want you to enter into this lightly,' Tiden nodded.

'Thank you.' He held the King's gaze after he had said the words, wondering if he could ask what he desperately wanted to. 'Sire,' he began again, when Tiden gave him time to voice the thoughts, 'I know that this may be inappropriate as I haven't agreed to help, but what is your plan concerning Camelot?'

The King gave him a hard stare and then looked over at James, a silent question passing between the two. James, after a moment's pause, gave a nod to the King. Merlin understood: James trusted him.

'Until we arrive, it will be unclear which path will be best to follow. As it stands, our options are thus -and your magic would be of great help in either of them- : to disrupt the treaty talks and ensure their failure or to sway Arthur Pendragon in his views on magic.'

Merlin said nothing, but he absorbed the words, memorising them carefully.

'We leave for Camelot in four days; you have until then to decide.' The words sounded like the close to their conversation, a thought that was confirmed as the King stood up. James and Merlin followed suit, heading back out into the throne room, where Tiden sat down once again.

'Thank you, Sire, for the faith you have placed in me and for the honours you have bestowed upon me,' Merlin said, not wishing for his hesitancy in this plan to be considered ingratitude on his part for everything else.

Tiden nodded his reply and James and Merlin bowed their heads and turned to go.

'But Merlin,' the King called as Merlin took his first step. He turned back, feeling hesitant. 'Sooner or later, a man must choose where his loyalty lies; and once given, that loyalty can not be revoked; it is a path you set your life down.'

Merlin nodded his understanding, bowed his head once more and then headed out of the throne room. Ideas of chosen paths and unwavering loyalty circled in his head, like the distant echo of a forgotten past.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Back again. Thank you for the reviews. They're so encouraging, and lovely to read. Just a quick note: I've made a slight alteration to chapter 5. I really hate going back and changing things, but kiki1607 made a very good druid related-point. To be honest, it doesn't really affect anything story wise, but thought I'd let you know so that you could go and have a read if you wanted.

Anyway, let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 7**

'What news?' Arthur asked. He looked around the table at the knights and counsellors gathered there. He had finished his general introductions to the meeting of the roundtable and was now keen to hear from his knights what the other kingdoms had had to say in response to his invitations. 'Gwaine?'

'The kingdoms of Gwynedd and Powys were all for it. They've accepted your invitation. They couldn't wait to get started with the talks.'

'Good, I expected as much. We have had positive dealings with them in the past,' Arthur nodded. 'Thank you, Sir Gwaine. Elyan?' he asked.

'I'm afraid the land of Rheged has declined to take part.'

'Did they give reasons?'

'No, my Lord, they didn't even send a written reply for you. I'm sorry.'

'No, Elyan,' Arthur said, shaking his head and hiding his disappointment –it would have been good to have Rheged with them in this venture- 'this union of the land will take many years and suffer many set backs. These are merely the first steps.'

Arthur listened with a mixture of triumph and disappointment as his knights listed off the names of kingdoms that had and hadn't agreed to come along to the peace talks that were due to take place in Camelot next week. He knew that it was a big ask for so many kings and queens to gather in Camelot in such a short time, but he was eager to get things moving. Convincing the five kingdoms to go along with his venture had taken well over a fortnight and although many couldn't believe the speed at which things had been set in motion, it still wasn't quick enough for Arthur.

He knew many were surprised and infuriated by the sudden zeal that had overtaken him concerning the unification of the land, but he could do little to hide it. The passion in him to see this project through was like a fire burning inside.

And time and time again, he wished that Merlin was here to share in it. He knew that Merlin would have been as enthusiastic as him; his friend would have encouraged him at every turn. Arthur still remembered Merlin's face when he had voiced the first tentative words of his plan for Albion. It was that memory that Arthur kept in balance in his head at all times, measuring his need to see Merlin's joy at the idea of the union with his need to keep Merlin's ghost at bay to ensure his emotions remained level.

He had found recently, however, –ever since he'd told Gwaine of his plan- that his grief had slipped into a new, gentler phase of being. It was still there -gathering always at the back of his mind- but his intense focus on the task at hand had allowed it to settle into more of a hollow space inside of him, rather than the raging storm that it had been before. In part, he knew that was because he was so busy, but he was also beginning to realise that the task he had set before himself brought a piece of Merlin with it, an encouragement and vision from his manservant that before had been clouded by grief. In short, -though Arthur didn't want to dwell too much on what this said about his current state of mind- it felt like Merlin was going through this with him. Part of him felt ashamed at the sentimentality in the idea, but another part took great comfort from the sense of Merlin's familiar presence overseeing the proceedings. It wasn't that Arthur believed in ghosts, but he did believe in people's legacies, and this one felt like Merlin's.

'Sir Leon, was your journey successful?' Arthur asked, as Sir Olgan concluded his feedback. Arthur was relatively sure that Leon's answer wouldn't be good. But he opened his eyes wide in surprise as the knight began to nod.

'Actually, Sire, it was. Cyathia will come to the talks. I spoke to King Tiden himself and within the hour he had given a reply.'

'Cyathia?' Gwaine asked. 'Never heard of it.'

'Not many have,' Arthur replied. 'I've never heard of them dealing with anybody.'

'Well, they wish to talk to you,' Leon smiled.

'That is good news. If we can join with Cyathia, then it opens up the eastern borders as well. Well done, Sir Leon.'

The meeting was concluded quickly after the names of those attending the talks were announced. Of the initial ten kingdoms that had been invited, six had agreed to come, although Arthur was quite certain that of those six, very few of them would make the upcoming talks easy. It would be a long and no doubt infuriating process, but the realisation that it was in motion was enough to send a genuine spark of joy through Arthur. He was surprised by it; he had thought it would take longer to get to a point where an emotion such as that one would come so easily.

Arthur remained where he was as the rest of the knights and councillors left the room, until only he and Gwaine were left. The knight gave his cocky smile and put his feet up on the table. Arthur didn't even bother telling him to put them down again. Instead, he returned the smile and leant back on his chair.

'So, you happy that there are a load of pompous, arrogant kings and queens descending on Camelot?' he asked.

'It's a very strong first step.'

'If you say so. All I know is that you're going to have to deck out half the castle to free up enough rooms for all of them. The servants are grumbling, you know.'

'I'm sure that all the monarchs will bring their own servants to look after them,' Arthur told him pointedly.

'Well, as long as you're prepared to deal with an uprising from your staff.'

'I dealt with Merlin all those years,' Arthur told him. 'He was an uprising all on his own.'

'That he was,' Gwaine nodded, 'but a very entertaining one.'

'I can't get used to him not being around,' Arthur admitted, surprising himself at his openness and yet at the same time accepting it. Things had changed between him and Gwaine over the last few weeks; had changed in a way that he would never have though possible with the knight. He and Gwaine were as far apart as two people could possibly be. In fact, the more time he spent with Gwaine, the more he realised that he and Merlin had actually been far more similar than he'd ever guessed. They'd both had a shared history, a shared experience, a shared understanding of what Camelot was and what it could be.

Gwaine, on the other hand, was a complete mystery to Arthur. The man showed such loyalty to his King and to Camelot and yet displayed a completely lack of disrespect for things at other times. He fought with a focus and precision that was astonishing to watch and yet approached life with a blasé attitude which often made him look like he couldn't care less. He was constantly ready with a joke and a cocky grin and yet, of all the knights, it was Gwaine who still wore the haunted look in his eye that Arthur recognised in his own anytime he looked into a mirror. Gwaine was a man of contradictions through and through, and yet since Merlin's death, Arthur had found himself feeling more grounded if the knight was around.

It was ridiculous, he knew. Of all the knights, Gwaine would be the last one anyone would go to in order to feel grounded, and yet Arthur found himself doing just that. It was Merlin, of course, who was binding them together in this way, and, for all Arthur knew, the link would fade as their grief did, but for now, it connected them together.

'Nor me. He used to come and see me all the time, you know.'

'When?'

'Between jobs he was doing for you. Sometimes instead of doing the jobs,' he grinned.

'What did you even talk about?' Arthur asked him incredulously. He had always found the friendship between Merlin and Gwaine odd; they were just so different.

'He mostly complained about you,' he shrugged nonchalantly. 'And then I'd join in and he'd switch to defending you instead.' Arthur fought against the smile that rose up at the words.

'So all you two ever talked about was how useless I was?'

'Don't flatter yourself. You weren't the only topic of conversation.'

'Enlighten me,' he pressed. Gwaine tipped back slightly on his chair and a childish part of Arthur wanted to see the smug smile wiped of the man's face as he toppled onto the floor. After a few seconds, he gave a sigh and answered the question.

'You know Merlin: he never shut up. Talking about Gaius and Gwen, all the other knights, what he saw for the future; his life in Camelot.'

Arthur fixed Gwaine with a sceptical look.

'What?'

'You don't strike me as the sit-around-chatting type,' Arthur told him.

'Neither do you,' he retorted.

'What's that got to do with anything?'

'How many hours did you spend talking to Merlin?'

'Half the time I was telling him to shut up,' Arthur pointed out, but he couldn't quite match Gwaine's sarcasm anymore. He'd realised that his ability to talk about Merlin without having to retreat into himself to escape the emotional onslaught was slowly returning, but he couldn't sustain it for very long.

'But you were still listening,' Gwaine told him. 'You know what he was like, he just drew people in.' Arthur just nodded. 'Well,' the knight continued, standing up and stretching, 'I guess I better go and do knight-like things. You better go and do king-like things: starting with placating all the servants.'

'Or I could delegate that job to you.'

'Love to help, but it's my turn to patrol the town, and what with all your guests on their way, I better make the most of a quiet walk.'

He gave Arthur a nod and then headed out of the room. Arthur looked down and picked up the scroll that lay on the table. On it were the names of all this visiting kingdoms due next week. He smiled to himself, rolled the scroll up and headed out into the castle.

* * *

Merlin lay awake again. Sleep had eluded him over the past three nights and he was beginning to wish he'd learnt a spell that could knock him into a dreamless slumber. Here he was, still awake, still tired and still undecided on what he should do tomorrow when the King asked him whether he would be joining them on their trip to Camelot.

Merlin sighed and rolled over. It wasn't that he hadn't given the idea much thought; every free moment he had had been consumed by the decision and yet he still couldn't settle on an answer.

On one hand, he knew that Cyathia and the society that it had created was a brilliant thing; something that needed to be protected, preserved and expanded. The thought of what people could achieve if they worked together with each other and with magic staggered Merlin. There wouldn't be crop shortages, people could be healed of otherwise life threatening diseases, houses could be built with ease, fires put out in seconds. The possibilities were endless if magic was allowed to flourish under the direction of sorcerers who were devoted to using it for the right reasons. As such, Cyathia couldn't be allowed to disappear or be swallowed up by a regime that disregarded and feared magic.

But at what cost should one way of life be preserved? That was the question Merlin was struggling with. Tiden had said that their first plan was to disrupt the unity talks, but what right did they have to destroy a chance for kingdoms to work together for the good of their people and the whole land? It didn't seem to be justified to Merlin, and although he knew it was likely to be the easiest path, he feared that the consequences of following it would reach far into the future and maybe cause rifts and wars that would be devastating.

If Merlin was honest with himself, the approach he felt most comfortable with was trying to talk the King of Camelot round to their way of seeing things. James had brought him information scrolls about Camelot and its society and Merlin had to admit that Uther really had been opposed to magic –he had known that even with his lost memories- but the information they had on his son seemed to be somewhat scant and it certainly didn't seem to paint a tyrannical picture of him, not compared to Uther. It was true, however, that no laws on magic had been changed or revoked, which suggested that Arthur was as against it as his father had been.

But surely he could be swayed. That was the thought that Merlin kept on coming back to. If they could somehow talk to this king or show him their way of life, then he would at least have to consider the idea that magic wasn't so bad.

Yes, it was definitely that option that seemed like the best one to Merlin, and one that he would willingly go along with.

He sighed again and lay on his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling above. Several people had told him to go, although how some of them knew that he'd been invited was beyond him. But more than once in the training rooms, sorcerers had come and asked him about the trip. They were, of course, members of the court, but even so: he was surprised they were taking such an interest in his possible excursion.

Peter, of course, couldn't understand his hesitation, especially since he had been selected as one of the stable hands to accompany the entourage and look after the horses, much to his elation.

'So what if Tiden might be planning to be a little underhanded? I'm going.'

'He's not going to be underhanded,' Merlin argued as he flicked through another one of the books that James had leant him.

'Well he's not exactly going with a view to join Camelot is he,' Peter sighed. 'There's definitely a hidden agenda.'

'It's not a bad agenda though,' Merlin continued. 'It's to try and create a land that accepts magic.'

'Then come with us! Do you think I'm bothered either way? No! But I'm not turning down the offer.'

'You're not going to be asked to disrupt peace talks or sway a king though are you,' Merlin pointed out.

'That's right, rub it in. _I have magic and Peter doesn't_,' Peter retorted in feigned annoyance.

'You know that's not what I meant, and anyway, you said yourself that your magic is getting stronger.'

'Only when you boost it with yours; that's hardly personal skills.'

Merlin smiled at him and gave a short laugh before turning back to his books.

'Merlin,' Peter sighed after a moment, 'it really is your decision, but when it comes down to it, we've got the chance to go to Camelot: the centre of magical hatred, don't you want to find out why that kingdom is the way it is?'

That had given Merlin a bit more to think on, but he knew that Peter wasn't really looking at the bigger picture.

Another, less welcome piece of advice came from Steven. The man had started showing up much more regularly to places where Merlin was, and he was being far less vocal. Instead, he seemed to have switched to more subversive attacks. He would frequently ask Merlin what he had decided in a tone that held barely concealed disdain. Merlin had tried for an aloof approach when responding, but Steven always gave off an air of someone who knew more than he was letting on and it unnerved Merlin no end.

'I can imagine you're nervous about going back there,' the man told him as he manipulated the metal of a shield with his magic, twisting the armour into unrecognisable shapes and then reforming it like new. He was a powerful magician, that much was obvious, although Merlin rarely saw him use it. Rumour had it that Steven and three of his friends trained privately together in one of the disused training rooms down by the dungeons. Merlin hadn't ventured down there for that reason alone.

'It's not that I'm nervous,' Merlin replied, trying to focus on his own spell, but loosing concentration; the look on Steven's face was enough to make Merlin clench his fists at his side.

'Of course you are. Somebody threw you in a river in Camelot.'

'I don't know what happened.'

'Aren't you worried that you'll go back and they'll try to finish the job? Who knows what you got up to in those missing years.'

'Your concern is touching,' Merlin told him, forcing feigned politeness into his voice, knowing that it would irritate Steven not to get a rise out of him, 'but I think I'll be fine. Camelot is a big place, after all.'

'Still; wouldn't want you to switch allegiances once you get back…home.'

'I won't,' Merlin muttered, but his annoyance was evident and Steven gave a small laugh and walked out of the room, clapping Merlin on the back as he did.

Far from putting Merlin off the trip, it had almost made his decision for him. If Steven didn't really want him to go, then he was going to go just to annoy the man, but the words that had been said did circle Merlin's head for a long time afterwards, making his chosen path just as unfocussed as it had been before.

He closed his eyes and tried to envision the departure the following day. He imagined Tiden and the entourage setting off in the dawn light, imagined watching them heading towards Camelot, imagined himself spending the next few weeks wondering how things were going with the talks; wondering if they would be different if he was there.

He smiled to himself; he should have known what his decision would be all along. His mother had always told him that he was too inquisitive for his own good. There was no way he was going to let the chance to visit a famous kingdom slip past him, especially if the goal of the visit was to widen the acceptance of magic to the whole land. After all, he told himself, it wasn't _going_ that bothered him; it was what would happen when they got there, but he would be much more able to control the outcome if he was there as well.

And deep down, much deeper down, there was a thought inside him that maybe he would discover more about his missing years; not in the terrible way that Steven had suggested, but in a good way, a way that would help him to understand how he had become this new version of himself. After all, the chances were that he had lived in Camelot. Perhaps, by some lucky coincidence, there would be someone there who recognised him; who could tell him who he was and what his life had been. As much as he feared the answer, he feared the uncertainty more. His initial hesitations about wanting to find out about his past seemed to be disappearing now that the opportunity to find them was actually there.

The truth was that there was no other way he was going to be able to find out about the six missing years. Soon after he had arrived in Cyathia, he had asked James about using magic to restore memories, but the man had been uneasy at the idea. A talk with the Court Physician had helped Merlin understand why. The man, an elderly gentleman with thinning hair and a full moustache and beard, had explained that spells that affected the mind and memory were notoriously difficult to perform and highly unreliable in their results. He had given Merlin some horror stories of spells gone wrong: people ending up loosing all their memories or inadvertently being given false ones. The man had sighed and offered to try, but the look on his face told Merlin that it wasn't really a risk the physician wanted to take. When Merlin declined the offer, the man had breathed a sigh of relief. The mind, he had said, was just too complex.

As time passed and the memories didn't return on their own -as the physician had said they might- Merlin accepted the fact that he would never know what his recent years had been. He had almost felt relief at the idea; for one thing, it made his new start in Cyathia much easier. He had come to a place in himself where he didn't really want the memories to return, but now he found his resolve slipping. Whatever those years held, they were part of who he was. Could he ever really make a new life in Cyathia if he didn't understand where he had come from?

* * *

He awoke early to the sound of movement in the corridors outside, but this movement was different from his usual wake up call. This was things being carried and dragged, people rushing back and forth. This was preparation for the upcoming departure.

Hurriedly, Merlin washed and dressed and made his way to James' chambers. The man looked like he'd been up and about for hours. He was dressed in well worn, but handsome travelling clothes and decked out with full Cyathian emblems. He gave Merlin a nod as he came in.

'You're coming then?'

'Yes,' Merlin nodded.

'Do you think Tiden will let me come, even after my…hesitations?' Merlin asked quietly. James gave him a knowing smile, something that he did so rarely that it took Merlin by surprise. 'What is it?'

'You still don't realise how valuable you are,' the man said, almost to himself. Merlin said nothing, just frowned at the man in front of him. 'The King wanted you there, hesitations or not. He knows that your heart is for Cyathia's message and belief.'

'It is,' he nodded quickly.

'Then, take these,' he replied, holding out a beautifully woven cloak and a bag that was full of some sort of fabric.

'What are they?'

'Servant's clothes. Tiden wants you in his personal entourage and you'd be less conspicuous as a servant.'

Merlin tried to ignore the unease he felt when he considered why he needed to be inconspicuous and took the offered bag. He pushed aside his worries; no-one could make him do something he didn't want to. He smiled at James.

'So I'm going to Camelot?' he asked.

'Yes, Merlin; you're going to Camelot.'

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Hello one and all. Hope you've had good weeks. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. I have to say, I am getting very excited about the series finale for Merlin, but I also have a very bad feeling about it. Can't wait to see what happens.

Anyway, on with this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

Travelling to Camelot took a long time. Merlin had known it would, of course. The journey back with Steven and James, although they had been going slowly because of Merlin's injuries, had still taken several days and this one looked set to take just as long, if not longer. It was the sheer volume of people going that was causing the slow progress. The King, with several advisors, generally led the procession, surrounded on all sides by the royal guard, at least two dozen of them, with another two dozen spread out down the line to protect everyone else from attack. Behind the nobility were a variety of other people. There were six stable hands altogether, which Peter had complained profusely about, saying that it wasn't enough to look after the thirty or so horses they had with them, there were also around twenty servants, four cooks and ten bag carriers who were in charge of making sure that all the belongings of the group, as well as the tents that were being used by the nobles during the nights, remained safe and secure. In all, there were nearly one hundred people and, therefore, moving through rocky terrain, wild forests and open plains took far longer than it would have done had it been a small party on horseback.

Generally, Merlin slotted himself at the back of the servants, so that he could chat to Peter as they walked; the stable hands tended to bring up the rear as they were leading the spare horses that had been swapped to give them a break. As such, he got to know some of the other stable hands -whom he had heard mentioned, but had never actually spoken to- as well as a number of the servants.

Most of his conversations with them were about what being a servant actually entailed. After all, if he was posing as one, it wouldn't hurt to be able to convince others that he really was one. They were all keen to offer advice and Merlin found himself changing his speech so that it was acceptable when talking to nobility and practicing folding clothes and serving food whenever they stopped for a rest. It didn't take long for news of his new hobbies to reach the front of the entourage and he found himself being summoned by the King at the end of the second day's travel when they all stopped for food.

'I hear you are playing your part well, Merlin,' Tiden said as he sat at a makeshift table eating his dinner. Nearby, several of the King's advisers were watching, James and Steven in amongst them. The former looked at Merlin with something akin to fond amusement, while the latter looked on with a sneer on his face. Merlin ignored him.

'I feared that I would not be able to play the part of a servant very well without the practice.'

'Well let me propose something.'

'Of course, Sire.'

'While in Camelot, you can be my personal servant. That way it will be easy for you follow the proceedings and be informed of all decisions.' Merlin stared at the King wide-eyed. He knew, of course, that the nobles tended to have their own servants. Even now, several of the other servants were also at the front of the entourage serving their respective masters.

'I'm very honoured, my Lord, but I fear that I would be sadly lacking as a manservant.'

'I have another, of course,' the King continued, nodding at a man that Merlin knew as Benjamin. The servant looked up and gave Merlin a smile of recognition. 'Not all the duties would fall to you -Benjamin is quite capable- but this way you will be permitted to enter all meetings without question.'

'If that is what you wish, Sire.'

'It is. It was suggested that you play the part of a noble of Cyathia, but James informs me that you would be even less comfortable with that.'

'I would, Sire,' Merlin nodded with a smile. 'I fear that I would be even more lacking as a noble than I would as a servant.'

'It is settled then.'

And so it was. Merlin found himself shadowing Benjamin for several hours a day and, on occasion, taking over from him to try and ensure that he was easily passable as a servant.

'How is it,' Peter asked him later that night as they lay by the horses, keeping watch over them, 'that you can turn up in a kingdom, find favour with the King and then end up his manservant?' A few feet away, the horses shuffled about for a moment before settling once again.

'It's not like I'm really his servant,' Merlin pointed out. 'It's all an act.'

'Well, he's making you clean his clothes isn't he? Seems genuine to me. I just don't know how you've managed it.'

'It's nothing to do with me though, really, is it,' he mused.

'What do you mean?'

'It's about what I can do. It's about my magic. Otherwise none of this would have happened. I don't even know if James and Steven would have taken me with them after they pulled me out of the river if I hadn't had magic.'

'I suppose,' Peter whispered. They fell silent for several moments. It was a cool evening and Merlin found himself pulling his blanket more tightly around himself as a brisk breeze swept past them causing the leaves all around to shiver.

'I don't like Steven,' Peter said eventually.

'Really?' Merlin asked, pouring confusion into his voice. 'I've always found him so charming.' Peter sniggered.

'He always turns up in places.'

'It _was_ annoying when he kept coming into the training rooms, but they _are_ open to everyone.'

'Not just the training rooms,' Peter told him, 'he came to the stables the other day; started asking me about you.'

'What?' Merlin asked, more loudly than he had intended to. He lowered his voice. 'He was asking you about me?'

'Yeah. Did I know where you were? Why was I bothering to follow you round? Which I don't do, by the way. Did I know if you were going to Camelot?'

'Why was he asking?'

Peter shrugged and rolled onto his side. 'I don't know. To be honest I wasn't very helpful. I think he's got it in for you, you know.'

'Probably, but I don't understand why.'

'It's obvious,' Peter told him. 'You do know that Steven was basically the most powerful sorcerer before you floated down river.'

'James says that there are others who are stronger.'

'Not many, and those that are aren't in the city; they're spread out over the kingdom. They tend to study magic and new spells rather than using their power for anything else.' He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. 'He's just jealous. Up until now, no-one could challenge him on a magical level –believe me, I would have done if I could- and now you're here and he's not the most impressive sorcerer anymore.'

Merlin frowned at the sky, wondering what he had done to make Steven believe he was a threat. He had done nothing other than try to avoid the man.

'You know,' Peter mused, 'if you get chance, I really think you should use your magic to turn him into a slug.'

'I don't know if that would solve the problem.'

'It would once I stood on him.'

Merlin laughed at the comment and shook his head, whispering a goodnight to Peter and then rolling onto his side. But he found it hard to sleep; Steven's behaviour was beginning to bother him and he wasn't sure what he could do to put things right. He'd talk to James about it when he got chance. Even so, as he fell asleep, he found himself wondering what words would create a spell to turn someone into a slug.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the journey, Merlin's servant training continued. It came to him much more naturally than he had expected. Things like mending clothes and cleaning had never worried him –he had done plenty of it in Ealdor- but what surprised him was the speed at which he picked up the more complex tasks; things like dressing the King in his armour. There were so many clasps and catches to remember, and yet Merlin found that he only needed to see them once and he remembered exactly what to do. Saddling and tending to the horses was another thing that seemed to come as second nature, despite the fact that he'd barely ridden a horse in his life. Peter, of course, had given him plenty of advice on that front, but Merlin found that it only seemed to confirm what he had expected he needed to do.

So it was, that by the time they were only half a day away from Camelot, Merlin was feeling quite confident. As long as he continued using the skills he had very quickly learnt, and kept himself all but invisible -as a servant should be- he saw no reason why anyone would think he was anything other than an experienced manservant. He was fairly certain that he would blend right in.

They were still a few hours away from Camelot when King Tiden called a stop to their journey to give everyone time to prepare for their entrance into Camelot. Since Cyathia had never had dealings with any other land, the King seemed determined to ensure that the first impression was a good one. They stopped beside a river, giving everyone chance to wash and then change into their ceremonial garments.

Merlin hid his discomfort as he changed into the ceremonial clothes of a Cyathian servant. He looked longingly down at his discarded jacket, breeches and shirt, along with his neckerchief, and then reluctantly gathered them up and stored them in his bag.

To make things worse, Peter barely managed to contain his laughter when Merlin re-emerged in the camp.

'It's not that bad,' he said through gritted teeth.

'Mine's better.'

Merlin wanted to argue, but it was hard to disagree. Peter was dressed in dark brown breeches and leather shoes. The tunic that he wore over the top was mostly the same dark brown as the trousers, but had the Cyathian crest –an eagle trimmed with gold, sitting on the branch of a tree, the leaves framing its profile in greens of every shade- intricately stitched over his heart.

Merlin, on the other hand, found himself in forest green breeches and a dark brown, long sleeved shirt. Those in themselves weren't too bad, but over the top he was wearing a green tunic that was entirely covered by the Cyathian logo and had the most stupid shoulder pads he'd ever seen. They tapered into points and were decorated with golden buttons. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had been given boots that reached up to his knees and had golden laces, and a cap that sat tightly on his head and was rimmed with a braid of gold and green.

'Yes it is,' Merlin agreed with a sigh.

'Well, at least all the other servants look equally stu… unusual,' Peter grinned.

'Thanks.'

'And look at it this way,' Peter continued, 'those clothes are probably worth a lot of money, so after you've finished pretending to be a servant, you can sell them and buy yourself new clothes.'

'I think James might want them back.'

'He doesn't need them,' Peter shrugged.

As soon as the other servants emerged wearing the same clothes, Merlin felt his self-consciousness dissipate slightly; at least they'd all look like idiots together. Although, he couldn't help but admit that the procession looked impressive as they continued on. The royal guard, while wearing roughly what they had been before, had donned a few extra embellishments and the King and his advisors exuded authority and nobility in their garments. The Cyathian standards were also raised as they got closer, and Merlin began to get a feeling of the significance of what they were doing in coming to Camelot after centuries of being hidden away from all.

When they were a couple of hours away, they were met by an envoy of the King who was there to guide them the rest of the way into Camelot. By that point, Merlin had joined the other servants of the nobility towards the front of the procession. They were lined up behind the nobility and a row of the royal guard, and as such could hear what was being said.

Merlin kept his head slightly bowed as Benjamin had told him he should do, but couldn't resist glancing up and shuffling slightly so that he could see between two of the guards and observe the knight of Camelot that had come to meet them. The man was on horseback and dressed in full armour. Around his shoulder was a bright red cape, which fluttered slightly in the breeze.

'Sir Leon, I believe,' Tiden said, his voice strong and clear.

'Yes, Sire,' the knight replied with a respectful bow of his head. His voice had a gentle restraint in it and the man himself seemed to hold himself with a quiet confidence which spoke entirely of humility. 'On behalf of King Arthur, may I welcome you to Camelot. It is our great honour to have you here.'

'The honour is mine. Camelot's reputation precedes her.'

'The King has sent me to guide you into the citadel and then to the great hall to meet with him.'

'And what of my people?' he asked, glancing back.

'They are more than welcome in the great hall.'

'Very well. Lead on Sir Leon.' The knight gave another bow and then turned his horse around and continued on.

Their progress towards Camelot was slow, as if to heighten the sense of gravity in the current exchange. Merlin felt himself becoming more and more nervous and excited as they drew closer, and, as they came to the end of the forest, he held his breath for his first glimpse of the city.

The King passed the tree line first, but with guards on horse back blocking Merlin's view, he was forced to wait a little longer to see the city up ahead. It was the blue sky that he saw first when he finally moved from the shadow of the forest into the sunlight of the day, but slowly the guards moved aside and Merlin saw the city of Camelot.

A thrill of shock snapped through him as he did and he found that his feet wouldn't move. Beside him, Benjamin gave him a questioning stare, but Merlin only glimpsed it from the corner of his eye; his gaze was fixed, instead, on the white city that lay ahead of him. The faintest slither of recognition had jolted through him as he saw it, but it was fast fading, like a dream that was impossible to recall once it had slipped from a person's mind. He tried to cling on to it -it was the first time he had experienced anything that felt like familiarity in over a month- but it was like the sudden flash of a bright star in the night sky, which was quickly covered by clouds.

'Merlin?' Benjamin asked. 'Are you alright?'

'I'm…' he began, his eyes creasing in confusion, but when he looked back at the city, the feeling of recognition was gone. 'I'm fine,' he nodded. 'Really, I am,' he repeated when Benjamin looked unconvinced. Merlin took a few halting steps forward and then found his rhythm again.

They drew closer to the city, but Merlin's initial feelings of excitement and nervousness had gone, to be replaced by a trepidation that he didn't understand and yet couldn't deny.

* * *

'Arthur,' Gwaine called, from the door of the great hall. 'Leon's coming with the Cyathians. There are loads of them.'

Arthur nodded from where he stood at the end of the room. 'Thank you Gwaine. Could you please gather the other knights? Percival,' the man stepped forward, 'please call the Lords and Ladies and Council members to the hall.' The man nodded and disappeared out of a side door.

Pacing across the throne platform, Arthur quickly checked that everything was in order in the hall. The banners of Camelot hung from the walls, freshly cleaned and mended. The floor shone as if it had been layered with diamonds and every window allowed for a crisp view of the outside world.

'Arthur.' He felt Guinevere slip her hand into his and pull him round to face her. She smiled up at him and he let out a breath he had been holding. 'You have done brilliantly so far. All the other kingdoms have commented on your welcome and hospitality. Why should Cyathia be any different?'

'I know,' he nodded, a small smile creeping across his face. 'They are just such an unknown in these talks.'

'You are making them known. It is a noble thing,' she told him, reaching up to kiss him gently on the lips. Arthur allowed himself to focus fully on the warmth of her lips and the way his heart quickened at her touch, the cares of the day fading slightly. But after a few seconds he pulled back, pulling up her hands so that he could kiss both of them.

'I could not do this without you,' he told her.

'I know that you could,' she smiled, 'but I'm glad to be with you for it anyway.'

He smiled at her and then allowed her to straighten up his clothes until they were perfectly arranged. A good impression was the most important first step.

He had to admit, though, that so far the event was going very well. Nothing had been discussed or negotiated yet; it would be foolish to start the proceedings before all the kingdoms had arrived, but the welcoming and meeting of the kings and their people had gone remarkably well.

Cyathia being the last party to arrive, the castle was already thriving with activity. Nearly every room in the castle was full –something that had never happened in all the time Arthur could remember- and the halls constantly rang with the sound of footsteps. Arthur had to hand it to his staff; they had done a remarkable job at getting the castle ready for the huge influx of guests. His head of staff had, at first, looked at him in horror when he outlined the numbers they were expecting, but the man had soon regained his composure and set to organising people.

In the end, they had had to hire well over two hundred people from the town to clean the castle completely from top to bottom, but somehow the inclusion of the townsfolk had given the whole thing a much more unified feel across the citadel. People understood the importance of the talks and also seemed to welcome them. There were, of course, those that had voiced their rejection of the plans to the knights as they patrolled, but overall the people seemed to be standing with Arthur.

That much was evident in how they were sorting out the town. The streets had been swept, though Arthur had asked for no such measures, and inns had agreed to save their rooms for the visiting staff and servants of the represented kingdoms. Many would have lodgings in the castle, but Arthur had been told quite firmly that there was no way they could fit all the extra servants and cooks in the castle. They were barely managing to fit the dignitaries as it was. On top of that, farmers had brought in extra produce during market day at the request of Arthur's kitchen staff.

Yes, there was no doubt about it; the whole of Camelot was on board with the idea that Arthur had first considered over a month ago talking to Merlin. It had grown into something monumental much more quickly than Arthur ever would have expected, and he still felt small spikes of grief stab at him as he considered the fact that Merlin was not here to share in it. The regret that he wasn't had pulled Arthur down more than once during the past week as he met and welcomed so many foreign visitors, but Guinevere had managed to pull him out of it, and had reminded him that this was still Merlin's dream, whether he was here to share it or not.

He still remembered telling her the reason behind his sudden desire for the peace talks. She had asked him several times, but he had put off answering until he knew that things were in motion. And then, one evening, he had sat down with her and told her about his conversation with Merlin, the things that Gwaine had said and the reason why he was so desperately seeking these peace talks. She had looked at him and kissed him, before smiling at him through gentle tears.

The sound of the doors opening drew Arthur back to the task at hand and he nodded at Guinevere. She took her place on her throne and Arthur quickly moved to sit beside her, his back straight, his eyes firm and his expression strong. He watched as his knights and council members filed in, filling the sections of the hall that had been allocated for Camelot's citizens. They had done it so many times in the past few days that it took no time at all, and they stood waiting for several minutes for the new arrivals to reach the great hall.

At a nod from Gwaine at the back of the hall, Arthur stood up, Guinevere next to him, while the rest of those gathered followed suit. The Cyathians had handed over their horses to the stable hands, no doubt along with a few stable hands of their own, and had decided which people in their party would represent the kingdom in the first meeting.

From outside the hall, a short burst of trumpet song sounded. Arthur took a deep breath, nodded to himself and waited for the King of Cyathia and his followers to make their way into the hall to begin what would hopefully be a smooth and uneventful meeting.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you so much for your response to the last chapter. It was lovely to receive so many reviews and I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I've decided to post a day early because my school broke up for the holidays today! Yay! So I'm free of children for seventeen whole days, which means plenty of time to write some more of this story and a good excuse to update sooner than expected. This will probably be my last post before Christmas, so Merry Christmas to everyone; hope you have a lovely time in whatever you're doing. Also, enjoy part one of the Merlin finale. I am _very_ excited, and –I'll admit- a little worried!

You're probably going to hate me at the end of this chapter, but please let me know what you think anyway!

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**Chapter 9**

Merlin wished that Peter was a servant rather than a stable hand. Yes, Benjamin was beside him, so there was one friendly face, but he wasn't really a friend in the sense that Merlin could laugh and joke with him. The man took his job very seriously and Merlin suspected that if he made any attempt to converse with him, the servant would just tell him that it was not appropriate at that moment and then go back to standing up straight with his head bowed in submission.

Inwardly, Merlin sighed and decided not to attempt any communication. They were waiting in the courtyard of the castle. Their party was considerably smaller now. Peter, along with the other stable hands –both King Tiden's and King Arthur's- had led the horses away, while the bag carriers had unloaded the supplies to be taken to the appropriate rooms, and the cooks had been led to the kitchens by some of Camelot's staff. A few of the servants had also left to prepare rooms for the nobles, and about a quarter of the royal guard had been taken away by a few of Camelot's knights. Merlin assumed it had something to do with organising security for the king.

That left fewer of them, but it was still quite a large party. Merlin only hoped that the room where the King was meeting them was big enough.

Up ahead, James was talking with Sir Leon and seemingly organising the final entrance into the meeting, which gave Merlin far too much time to think. The familiar feeling that he had experienced on seeing Camelot from a distance had completely faded, but the unsettledness that it had brought upon him wasn't dissipating in the slightest. If anything it was growing stronger. He kept on finding himself looking around, expecting another flash of recognition. He seemed to be both hoping for it and dreading it.

Firmly he shook his head and nervously ran his fingers over the lid of the box that Tiden had given him when they stopped earlier in the day. In it was a gift for King Arthur: an artefact that was steeped in magical history. It was a test of sorts, Tiden had said. Arthur was, apparently, unlikely to realise its connection to magic straightaway, but his researchers would make the link quite quickly. It was the first thing to look out for when it came to determining for certain Arthur Pendragon's stance on magic.

Merlin had argued quite vehemently that he shouldn't be given the responsibility of keeping it safe, but Tiden had only smiled at him and assured him that there was no-one else he would trust more with it. That didn't make Merlin feel any happier.

He ran his fingers over the clasp and resisted the urge to open the box. He already knew what it was; Tiden had shown it to him when he first filled Merlin in on the subtle plan. It was an amulet used by sorcerers in ancient times to store a small amount of magic which could be used in dire situations where just a little extra was needed. It was covered in runes and patterns which helped to lock the magic in place. It was a beautiful item, of that there was no doubt; Merlin had longed to try it on. He could sense the magic that was locked in the metal; magic that had been placed there hundreds of years ago by sorcerers who were long dead. It was truly a generous gift.

Up ahead, Sir Leon and Tiden seemed to have finished their discussion and Merlin felt nervousness flutter through him as he saw the King, his guards and his advisors arrange themselves into a clearer formation. The rest of the group seem to pick up on the readiness without being told and a stir of activity went through the group as soldiers and servants alike lined up and took up their agreed and accepted positions. Merlin shifted his feet and looked over at Benjamin who was standing in the perfect position of a servant: back straight, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him. Merlin followed suit as they began to walk up the steps into Camelot's citadel.

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The urge to gaze around the throne room in wonder was overwhelming as Merlin made his way into the huge space. He had been able to glance here and there as they walked along the corridors, taking in the rich tapestries, the beautifully patterned walls and windows, and the way every surface seemed to gleam, but he had a feeling it would be far more obvious in the highly formal setting that he currently found himself.

Instead, he settled for surreptitious glimpses of the room and tried to contain his awe. It was in no way a match for Cyathia's throne room -but then Tiden did have a whole array of magical aesthetics at his disposal- but it was grand, elegant, understated in many ways, yet it spoke of authority and nobility. The red banners of the land were hung proudly around the room, fresh and vibrant: ready for something new.

By the time the Cyathian party entered, King Arthur's representatives were already in place. They were standing on the left hand side of the hall: servants towards the back, with soldiers, knights and then the nobles closest to the front. Merlin tried to take a look at King Arthur, but his view was obscured by the numerous Cyathian soldiers in front of him. Even from his limited vantage point, however, he could see that the King was very young, much younger than Merlin had expected him to be. He had known, of course, that the ruler was around the same age as him, but somehow he had thought he would look older. Next to him, his queen looked equally young. Merlin frowned as he looked at the couple; something about them confused him, though he couldn't tell what. An expectation of understanding flooded his mind, but it wasn't fulfilled, and Merlin found himself brushing off the nagging feeling that he couldn't quite explain as he stared at the King and Queen.

Both of them stood looking every part the strong rulers that anyone would expect of a kingdom such as Camelot. They were side by side, their eyes welcoming their guests with gentle authority. In front of him, the Cyathian nobles and soldiers were being directed into the rows of chairs up ahead. With gentle prompting from Benjamin, Merlin made his way into a row further back, where the rest of the servants had gathered.

The general murmur of voices that had been evident as the party settled itself in the correct places fell to a complete silence as the doors at the back of the room were closed and Tiden took his last few steps towards the throne platform. Merlin looked on as well as he could without standing and craning his neck, but before anything else was said, King Arthur left the throne platform and walked down the steps so that he was on level ground with Tiden. The new position gave Merlin a slightly better view due to the arrangement of people in front of him and the few gaps they left, but his thoughts were occupied with the move the young King had just made. It was an action of humility, an instant gesture of friendship and equality that Arthur was under no obligation to carry out; it was, after all, his kingdom; he was well within his rights to promote his authority. But he hadn't. Merlin realised quickly that the King was determined to see these peace talks through successfully.

'It is an honour to meet you King Tiden of Cyathia,' King Arthur began, his voice strong.

'The honour is all mine, King Arthur. To be called upon by a kingdom as powerful as Camelot is a privilege of which Cyathia could not have dreamed.'

'You are most welcome.'

There was a moment's silence and Merlin watched as Arthur held out his hand to Tiden. It seemed a bold move so early on in their acquaintance –even Tiden hesitated for a moment- but eventually he reached out and clasped Arthur's elbow, while the young king returned the gesture.

'May I introduce Queen Guinevere,' he continued. The Queen stepped forward, taking her husband's raised hand as she moved down the steps.

'A pleasure, my Lady,' Tiden nodded, taking her hand and kissing it. She smiled graciously and then returned to stand beside her husband.

'And this is Sir Leon: head of the knights and a skilled warrior.' Merlin couldn't see Sir Leon step forward, but he heard Tiden greeting the knight again, before complimenting Arthur on the way his men had guided them into the citadel and helped organise their supplies. 'I'm glad that you have not found Camelot's hospitality lacking. We have worked tirelessly to provide a suitable environment for the upcoming talks.'

'I can see,' Tiden nodded. 'We are grateful for your diligence.'

Merlin watched the exchange with a strange fascination. Although there was no outward sign of it, it was clear to Merlin that this first meeting was riddled with under-the-surface interactions. The ease at which the kings spoke belied a tension that seemed to sit underneath the comments. Merlin could almost sense the two of them trying to figure the other out. King Arthur's extension of friendship seemed genuine, but it carried a wariness with it that seemed to be playing out in front of the huge assembly. Words were being chosen carefully, flattery used when necessary, welcome being extended, but not to the extent where it seemed to show any weakness. Not for the first time since leaving Cyathia, Merlin found himself worrying that he was going to inadvertently end up putting himself in the middle of something far beyond his comprehension.

'It is hoped that through our shared experience here in Camelot, we will be able to take steps into a new future; one that our kingdoms can walk into side by side,' Arthur said, his voice strong, passion hiding beneath it. 'As such, the castle is open to you and your people, as is the case for all kingdoms that have gathered here.' Only now did Arthur make his way back onto the throne platform, his wife at his side. 'I would be honoured if you and your chosen councillors would join myself and representatives from our other guests in a meeting at midday tomorrow to begin these talks. It is our hope that by delaying proceedings until then, all parties will be fully rested and refreshed. Regarding your staff: your guards and soldiers will be fully briefed by my knights concerning security for your people, and your servants are free to use whatever kitchen and laundry facilities they need to keep you comfortable during your stay.'

'I must say, Arthur, the generosity of you and your people is to be commended. In fact,' he continued, 'the people of Cyathia would like to show their gratitude by presenting a gift.'

Merlin felt his heart hammer in his chest. He had almost forgotten that he had a part to play in this first exchange. Thankfully he found that the box was still clasped tightly in his hands; hands that had suddenly begun to shake. He took several deep breaths and then, with urgent prompting from Benjamin, moved to the end of his row. As quickly as he could, he went through the instructions that the servant had given him for this moment. Don't walk too fast, don't walk too heavily, and don't lift your head unless specifically spoken to. Up ahead, Tiden was saying something about the value of the gift and its connection to the land's heritage –missing out any references to magic, of course- and so Merlin walked forward as inconspicuously as he could. He lifted his eyes for a moment and saw King Arthur was listening attentively to Tiden's words, every inch the gracious host. He lowered his gaze once more, certain that he was walking in a relatively straight line, and then held his hands up with the box containing the amulet resting on top of them.

He became aware of murmurings to his left as he got within a few metres of the throne platform. After the complete silence that had accompanied the conversation between the kings, it seemed loud and disrespectful, but when it didn't stop, Merlin began to feel nervous, even more nervous than he had done up until this point. What had suddenly stirred the people gathered? The kings didn't appear to have noticed the sudden change; Tiden was still speaking and Arthur was thanking him for the gift, but by the time Merlin knelt on the steps of the throne platform, head down and hands raised up presenting the gift, the noise sounded like a dull roar to him. Perhaps his anxiety was heightening his sense of hearing.

He risked a glance up and took in a scene that made him feel distinctly cold. Arthur was still looking at Tiden, but he was about to make his way over to where Merlin knelt to accept the gift. That in itself didn't bother Merlin, but the looks that were being directed at him from others on the throne platform made him shudder. The Queen was looking at him; not just looking at him, but staring at him, her hand up over her mouth and her eyes wide with tears forming in them. Just behind her, Sir Leon looked equally shocked as he stared at Merlin.

Arthur had taken a step or two towards the centre of the platform, readying himself to receive the present, but his gaze was still on Tiden, nodding in thanks as the King took a step back to allow for the moment of acceptance.

So it was that when the Queen whispered her husband's name in something that sounded like terror, but felt a little more like hope, both the King and Merlin looked at her. She said nothing, just shook her head and began to move a hand away from her mouth before thinking better of it. Her gaze, though, never left Merlin and he began to feel very much like he should run.

He didn't though; he felt rooted to the spot as if somehow everything in the room was anchoring him to this place at this moment. The murmurs of the room faded out, leaving a quietness that seemed to go beyond silence. Merlin looked up at King Arthur, knowing that, as a servant, he should not, but feeling compelled to nonetheless, and waited for the man to turn and look at him.

It didn't take long. The king's head turned and his eyes snapped onto Merlin, evidently not knowing what to expect after seeing his wife's expression.

Merlin, however, knew what to expect, or at least he thought he did. He expected to see a look of indifference cross the monarch's face, a small glimpse to take in the essentials when meeting someone for the first time, before the man took the offered gift and moved back.

It was what he expected.

It wasn't what he got.

The king's face, for the tinniest moment, remained neutral, before a fierce spark of shock, confusion and fright passed through his expression. His eyes locked onto Merlin's, his mouth opened slightly as if a scream was trying to work it's way out his throat and his face paled and paled until he seemed to flicker like a ghost in front of Merlin.

For a few seconds that seemed to last hours, the king took several deep and panicked breaths, before taking a small step forwards, his hand just beginning to stretch towards Merlin and his head moving from side to side in almost imperceptible movements.

'Merlin,' he breathed, his voice no more than a whisper in the vast hall.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you so much for your response to the last chapter! It was very encouraging. Hope you like this chapter! Please let me know!

Now, I'm aware that not everyone will have seen the Merlin finale, so I have a master plan. I am going to rant/talk/muse about it at the end of this chapter, but I'll leave lots of dots above and beneath it so that if you're trying to avoid spoilers, it'll be easy.

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**Chapter 10**

It was like all his senses had stopped working. He knew that there were hundreds of people gathered in the hall, but he couldn't see them; he knew that there was a drone of voices beginning to bubble up in the air, but he couldn't hear it. He knew that he was standing on the throne platform, but he struggled to gain any sensation of his feet being planted firmly on the ground.

All he was really aware of was the person kneeling in front of him. A person so familiar that Arthur felt a crush of memories swamp him. A cliff-edge, the crack of bone on rock; water swallowing up a lifeless figure. He stared at the man in front of him and couldn't deny that he looked exactly like Merlin. Maybe not wearing the same clothes as he normally did, but everything else was so achingly familiar that Arthur felt his throat close up and his hands begin to shake where they were raised slightly towards the man.

'Sire?' the man that looked like Merlin asked, his voice quiet and fearful, but so recognisable. Arthur took a shuddering breath. He had begun to forget what Merlin sounded like. Just yesterday evening he had been sitting at his table trying to imagine Merlin's comments on the meetings of the day, only to feel a panic of grief when he realised he couldn't completely remember his friend's voice. The way he would say some words seemed to stay rooted in Arthur's memory, but as for making up whole new parts of a conversation, Arthur had found that he couldn't do it.

And now that voice was speaking, making Arthur wonder how he could have forgotten it. But the single word brought Arthur out of whatever frozen shock had rooted him for several seconds. He took two steps back, shaking his head and trying to organise his thoughts. This wasn't possible; Merlin was dead. He had seen him fall, had grieved for him, had done everything he could to try and hold onto his friend's memory, and now here he seemed to be. But it wasn't true; it couldn't be, and this was a cruel game for someone to play.

Anger surging in him, he looked over at Tiden. He tried to control the sensations sweeping through him; this was, after all, his first meeting with Tiden; he couldn't afford to create bad feeling, but his emotions were beginning to rage.

'What is the meaning of this?' he asked the King, his voice level and calm, though inside his heart pounded. For a moment, an equal anger seemed to pass through Tiden as he looked at Merlin, but it was quickly covered to be replaced with what appeared to be very genuine confusion.

'I don't understand the insinuation King Arthur,' he returned, his voice even and respectful. The calm response threw Arthur and he found himself looking back at the imposter; an imposter who had left the offered gift on the floor and was beginning to rise to his feet, a look of fear and confusion on his face. Arthur looked away; it was too familiar. Instead, his eyes sought out Guinevere's. Taking the hint she walked over to him until she was right beside him. Her eyes moved between Arthur and Merlin until they eventually rested on her husband's face. In a voice so quiet that only Arthur could hear, she whispered, 'You can not do this here.' Arthur suddenly became aware of the rest of the room. The Cyathian's were looking on in confusion, but there was also fear in their expressions; while the people of Camelot seemed to divide their focus between their King and the all-too-familiar servant. Guinevere was right: whatever was going on, he could not do this here.

'My apologies King Tiden,' he said. 'Your people are free to settle themselves into the castle, but I would ask that you remain.'

'As you wish, Arthur,' Tiden nodded.

The hall cleared remarkably quickly and while it did, Arthur seated himself on his throne with Guinevere next to him. He refused to look at the servant and instead took Guinevere's hand and held it tightly. She squeezed it gently, but he could see her from the corner of his eye; she was smiling as she looked at Merlin, her focus on him completely and joy in her eyes. Arthur couldn't bring himself to fall into the same relief. He just couldn't risk being wrong.

'Sir Gwaine, Sir Leon; I'd like you to stay.' He turned to Tiden. 'You are, of course, welcome to keep some of your party here.' The king nodded and quickly selected two men who looked to be his advisors and two of his royal guard. The rest of the hall emptied, leaving only the echo of the door filling the empty space.

'Is there a problem, Arthur?' Tiden asked after a few seconds. Arthur paused before replying. He considered getting up from his throne, but he suddenly felt incredibly weak. He remained where he was and asked a question in response to Tiden's.

'Who is this man?' he asked, pointing and yet not looking at the servant. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could make out the man shifting nervously, just like… He shook his head.

'He is my manservant,' Tiden replied cautiously. 'Why do you ask?'

Arthur surveyed the king carefully, weighing up the words, his expression, his body language.

'Nearly two months ago, my manservant, who looked exactly like this man, was killed in an accident.'

At the words, something passed across Tiden's face and another spark of anger seemed to flick through it momentarily as he snapped his gaze to the servant.

'That is a coincidence, considering that this man has only been in my service for just under two months.'

'What?' Arthur asked quietly, shocked at the reply. Surely if this was some sick game then the king wouldn't begin to corroborate Arthur's version of events. He looked at the servant again, to find fearful eyes staring back at him. Arthur felt his breathing quicken as he considered the possibility. The man in front of him looked exactly like Merlin, was exactly like Merlin.

'This man was pulled from the Bernt river, nearly drowned, by two of my own men.'

'But…' Arthur got to his feet, trying not to show how much effort the movement required, and took several quick steps until he was standing in front of the servant. He looked closely at the man's forehead and saw a small scar in the same place where Merlin's head had connected with the rock. This was… No. He moved back and turned on Tiden.

'My manservant, if he survived the accident, would have made his way back to Camelot as soon as he was able,' Arthur told him, trying to quell the sudden hope that was beginning to flutter in his chest. He couldn't do this; he couldn't allow himself to believe and then have Merlin snatched from him again.

'Not if he didn't remember Camelot,' Tiden replied. 'This man has no memory of the last six years of his life.' Arthur paused again, allowing the words to sink in, testing them for their truth, but he knew within himself that his doubts were crumbling away. He took several deep breaths, his eyes focussing on some point beyond the room. And then, ever so slowly, hope just beginning to flow through his veins, Arthur turned around to look at the man behind him.

To look at Merlin.

He tried to speak, tried to say anything as he took a few steps forward, but he knew that if he did his voice would shake. Instead, he settled for reaching out a hand and placing it on Merlin's shoulder.

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Confusion wasn't a strong enough word to describe what Merlin was feeling. He had thought that waking up in the forest to discover he was missing years of memories had been disorientating, but this felt like any anchoring he had concerning himself had been ripped away, leaving him adrift in a sea of questions that he didn't really want to ask.

He was uncomfortably aware of the King's hand on his shoulder and eyed it nervously, which caused the King to snatch it away.

'Sire,' Merlin began slowly, respectfully. 'Are you saying that I know you? That I lived here, in Camelot?' The king swallowed and looked like he was going to reply, but instead he stepped back and nodded at one of his knights, Sir Gwaine if Merlin remembered correctly. The knight walked over; he was shaking his head in disbelief, but grinning manically at the same time. For one terrible moment, Merlin thought the knight was going to hug him, but he seemed to think better of it and instead slung an arm around his shoulder.

'You've come back from plenty in the past Merlin, but this has got to top all of them.'

'Are we…friends?' Merlin asked uncertainly.

'Course. You taught me everything I know.' Merlin wasn't convinced at all; he found it hard to believe that he was friends with a knight, but then, at the moment, everything was hard to believe. How could he have lived in Camelot; not just in Camelot, but in the castle as the King's manservant? None of it made any sense. He was a sorcerer; why would he work for the King of a kingdom that would see all magic users dead?

Not only that, it was obvious that the King was highly affected by seeing him; even now, it was clear that the young ruler was struggling. Merlin wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. He could see it in the smallest of gestures: the way the man's eyes darted back and forth every now and then, the slight hesitation when he moved or spoke. Merlin shook his head against the thoughts; how could he possibly know these things? But he couldn't deny it.

'My apologies, Tiden,' Arthur was saying. He had resumed his firm stance, and his voice was once again full of authority, but Merlin knew the man was looking for a way out. 'This new turn of events took me by surprise.'

'I can sympathise,' Tiden replied and something in the way he said it made Merlin feel slightly unsure of himself.

'I don't wish to delay you any further,' he continued, levity suddenly appearing in his voice. 'Sir Leon will lead you to your quarters. Sir Gwaine, perhaps if you…' he gestured towards Merlin, barely meeting the knight's eyes. Merlin saw Gwaine narrow his eyes at the king, a sigh escaping him as he nodded in understanding. 'That is of course if you don't mind, Tiden,' Arthur added.

'No, I'm sure Merlin has a lot to catch up on. If you could bring him to my quarters shortly,' Tiden said, looking to Gwaine.

'Of course, Sire,' the knight nodded, inclining his head.

'That's settled then. Leon, if you could lead King Tiden and then send a messenger to Ealdor…'

'Ealdor?' Merlin all but shouted, before levelling his voice. 'My mother, is she…'

'Gaius is with her-' Merlin frowned at the unfamiliar name '-but she thinks you're dead and I'd like to reassure her,' the King explained, still without looking at Merlin. Merlin felt guilt fill him at the thought of his mother believing her son was dead. He should have contacted her. 'Leon?' the King asked.

'Of course, Sire. I'll send one straight away.'

Thank you,' Arthur nodded. 'If you'll excuse me...'

Both kings nodded to each other and then Arthur held out his hand to his wife and made his way off the platform. The Queen was giving her husband a look of anxiety, but she hid it when it was clear Arthur was not going to respond. The couple walked forward. Arthur didn't look at Merlin; in fact, he seemed to put every effort into pretending that he wasn't there. He waited for Tiden, James, Steven and the guards to leave the hall and then followed them out. The Queen turned back as they walked towards the door and Merlin frowned in confusion at the smile that she beamed at him, before the party disappeared from the room, leaving Merlin alone with Sir Gwaine.

Merlin eyed the knight suspiciously. The man was still watching the doorway where the king had just been. There was something like disappointment on his face, but it disappeared as he turned to Merlin with a grin. Before Merlin knew what was happening, the knight was pulling him into an embrace, laughing to himself.

'Oh, Merlin. Do you know the hell you've put us through the last few weeks?'

'Erm…sorry…' he shrugged as the knight moved back, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

'You're alive, that's enough for me. Just to check, this whole memory loss thing is real isn't it?'

'What do you mean?' Merlin frowned.

'I mean, it's not part of some master plan to protect Arthur or Camelot is it?'

'Why…how…?' Merlin stumbled over his words.

'Well, it's the sort of thing you'd do.'

Merlin shook his head, feeling panic start to rise up in him. He wished the knight would stop acting like he knew him.

'I don't remember anything,' he told him firmly.

'Alright,' Gwaine said, holding his hands out in a more open way. 'It's alright. I was just kinda hoping it might be an act.'

'I wish it was.'

'Well, now you're here, maybe the memories will come back.'

'Perhaps,' Merlin nodded. 'But they haven't so far.'

'Once Arthur talks to you, whenever he does that,' the knight muttered, almost to himself, 'you might find them coming back.'

'Was I really the King's manservant?'

'Manservant, advisor, friend, target practice. Everything really.' Gwaine grinned at him again, but the news only made Merlin feel nervous. Why was he working for the King of Camelot? And what was their relationship if that was how one of his closest knights described it?

'I…' Merlin began to say, but a rush of emotions swamped him, a terrible feeling that his life in Cyathia was, after all, a life that was not his, not the one that he should be living.

'Why don't you take a seat?' Gwaine suggested. For one alarming moment, Merlin thought the knight meant the throne, but the man sat down on the steps behind them. For a moment, Merlin felt uncertain, but eventually he took up a seat beside the knight and soon found himself resting his arms on his knees, his head held between his hands as he stared at the floor and felt a crush of emotions flood him.

'Can you fill me in on a few things?' he asked after several moments' silence. He glanced at Gwaine briefly, but then looked down again.

'I'll do my best.'

Merlin asked a few questions, but he found that he was reluctant to find out too much. He asked what had happened to him and how he had ended up in the Bernt river. He asked more about how he had become manservant to the king –a story which Gwaine related with much amusement, explaining that he was retelling it as Merlin had told him years ago. He asked about why he had come to Camelot, but the knight seemed unsure of the reasons, and told Merlin that Gaius would be the one to ask -Gaius, who was apparently Merlin's mentor and teacher and something akin to a surrogate father. Merlin wondered if the physician –as Gwaine had explained he was- had been the one teaching Merlin magic; he had evidently invested a lot in Merlin, perhaps it was because he knew of the magical abilities he possessed. For it became obvious, very quickly, that Gwaine knew nothing of Merlin's magic. The man neither mentioned magic nor eluded to it in any way and Merlin guessed that, if the knight knew, he would want to ensure that a Merlin-without-memory was aware of that fact.

So it was that by the time Merlin finished receiving the answers to the few questions he had asked, he felt no more reassured than he had done beforehand. If anything, he felt even more confused. He sighed heavily and sat up on the steps, looking at the knight. The man's face was sympathetic; he gave a shrug.

'Best I can do, I'm afraid.'

'I appreciate it,' Merlin nodded. They sat in silence for several long seconds, but the quietness felt crushing. He shook his head, looked around the hall of Camelot with all its vibrant banners and gleaming walls and tried to imagine himself having been here before, but he couldn't do it.

'I have no idea who I am,' he whispered, the words seeming to echo back, taunting him again and again.

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**SPOILERS**

It was so sad! I can't believe that they actually killed Arthur. I genuinely thought that Merlin would find a way to save him. I kept on telling my self he would, and then he didn't!

That said, I thought it was an absolutely brilliant episode! The bromance in it was excellent. Colin Morgan and Bradley James just gave it their all and it was beautiful to watch. The reveal was done so well, and I'm really glad that Merlin told him, rather than Arthur just finding out. And Arthur's change over the episode was very believable, with everything that needed to be said, being said in just the right way. I think my favourite thing in the episode, though, was the way Arthur looked at Merlin the whole way through it, but especially in the second half. He said so much in the way he looked at Merlin. It was like he was seeing him for the first time in every glance; like he couldn't believe and yet couldn't deny what Merlin could do and had been doing.

I was initially quite disappointed with how it all ended, but in retrospect, I think it was very brave of them to do what they did, and they did it so well! And there's always fanfiction to rewrite it all anyway!

Anyway, that's enough of a rant. Any thoughts from anyone else?

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	11. Chapter 11

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Happy New Year! Hope you all had a good time. I thought the first of January was as a good a day as any to update, so here's the next chapter. Thank you for your reviews for the last one and please let me know what you think of this one.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Arthur walked quickly into his quarters, trying not to look like he was attempting to escape the rest of the world, but knowing that he was failing miserably in that quest where Guinevere was concerned. She followed him in and he heard her gently click the door shut. She said nothing and Arthur took the opportunity to try and compose himself. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, but when he did, he only saw the scene that had just unfolded in the hall. Before he could stop himself, he was leaning forwards, his hands braced against the table, trying to hold his body weight.

'Arthur,' Guinevere said, the concern evident in her voice as she walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm.

'I'm fine,' he replied quickly, but when he tried to push himself up off the table, he found his strength was sadly lacking.

'Here, sit down,' she told him, hurriedly pulling out a chair from the table and steering him to it. Arthur tried to hide his embarrassment at his current reaction. He wondered if he was going into some sort of shock. For shocking was a more than apt word to apply to his current situation. He took several deep breaths as Guinevere pulled another chair out and positioned it in front of Arthur. She sat down and lent forward, her hands clasping his and squeezing them tightly. 'Arthur, this is a good thing.' He nodded quickly, unable to trust himself to speak, but not wanting her to believe for one second that he wasn't glad. Because he was. The joy that had leapt through him when he finally realised that the man standing in front of him was actually Merlin and not some imposter or illusion had been overwhelming. It still was. It was why he had had to get out of there so quickly. He hadn't trusted his reaction to be anything close to kingly and he couldn't afford to let that façade drop in front of potential allies.

'Are you alright?' Guinevere asked him gently.

'Yes,' he managed, looking up at her, squeezing her hands back and smiling. 'Are you?' Instantly her face of concern turned into a smile. She gave a short laugh and a few tears slipped from her eyes. She nodded her head.

'He's alive,' she laughed, her disbelief echoing in her voice. 'Arthur, Merlin is alive and well.' He nodded back, but the smile that had been beginning to form on his lips died out again.

'Well in body,' he agreed. 'But his mind…'

'The memory loss may not be as severe as we think,' she said quickly, but Arthur didn't reply. He had seen the look on Merlin's face; he didn't remember anything. There had been no flicker of recognition in his eyes, nothing to suggest that he saw anything familiar when he looked at Arthur. Instead there was an unsettling detachment that Arthur hadn't been able to look at. Merlin had never looked at him like that. He said nothing in response to Guinevere's optimism. In truth, he knew nothing about how amnesia worked or how long it should take for someone to regain their memories, but Merlin's current state didn't strike him as one that would improve. After all, it had been nearly two months; surely some memories should have been coming back, especially now when he was back in familiar surroundings.

But there had been nothing.

'I'll ask Edward to see him,' Guinevere added after a few moments. Edward was the physician that was currently standing in for Gaius. Gaius had, in fact, returned to Camelot for a few weeks not long ago, having spent time with Hunith in Ealdor, but he had told Arthur that he wished to go back for a while and help Merlin's mother a little more: according to Gaius, she was not coping well with news of her son's death. Arthur had granted permission instantly. It was partly selfish –Arthur still found it difficult to look at Gaius' grief stricken face; it only served to remind him of his own grief- but at the same time Arthur wanted to offer Hunith any help he could. She had helped them in the past, and what was more, with Merlin gone, there was no-one to look after her. Arthur had sworn to look after her for Merlin's sake, even asking Gaius to invite her to live in Camelot, but Gaius had been convinced that she wouldn't move from the home that she had raised Merlin in, and his conviction had been proved right. So it was that the physician had returned to Ealdor with a wagon full of provisions for the village and an armed guard to ensure they got there safely. He had recommended Edward as a temporary replacement and Arthur, though he had not had much to do with the man in the past, agreed, trusting Gaius' judgement on the matter. 'And then when Gaius returns he can look at Merlin himself,' Guinevere continued, squeezing Arthur's hands again.

'Alright,' Arthur nodded, forcing some hope into his voice for Guinevere's sake. She smiled. 'I'll go and see Edward now, and you can speak to Merlin.'

'What?' Arthur asked her sharply as she headed towards the door. She turned. 'I can't go and speak to him now.'

'Why not? You haven't got any other meetings scheduled for today.'

'I need to prepare for tomorrow's talks.'

'Arthur,' Guinevere told him with gentle a reprimand in her tone, 'you have known exactly what you are going to say at the talks for weeks. You're as prepared as you can be.'

'He'll be with Gwaine now.'

'I hardly think Gwaine is going to mind.'

'I…' he trailed off, trying desperately to think of another excuse. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go and speak to Merlin; not now, not yet.

'You'll have to speak to him eventually,' Guinevere said softly. 'The longer you leave it the harder it will be.' She didn't say anything else, just walked over and kissed him on the cheek before heading down to find Edward.

Arthur listened to her footsteps echo down the hall, but with so many people in the castle, they soon became lost. He stared at the door, an internal battle raging. How could he go and speak to him? Not when this was how things were. He sighed and closed his eyes. How many times in the last few weeks had he wished to be able to talk to Merlin? He had lost count. On occasion, he had even found himself talking in his chambers as if Merlin was there. It was ridiculous…and painful. So many times he had forgotten, just for a second, and had called out for Merlin to help him with something, or gone to ask the man about something that was on his mind, only to be pulled up sharp when he realised he was talking to no-one. All he had wanted was to be able to speak to Merlin.

He stepped forward, and gave himself a firm nod. He could do this. He was the King of Camelot; a warrior, a knight. One conversation with a person who had been his friend for six years was hardly difficult.

_'Sire, are you saying that I know you?'_

Merlin's words from earlier suddenly rose in his mind and he felt his resolve crumble. Taking several steps back, he sat himself down on the bed and stared unseeingly at the wall. He had a terrible feeling that Merlin hadn't really come back at all.

* * *

Merlin half listened to Gwaine as the man led him to King Tiden's chambers. The knight kept on pointing out things that Merlin had done in this part of the castle, or trouble he had got into in that part of the castle. At first, Merlin had strained to remember them, but when that had proved fruitless -and when he couldn't deny that all the escapades sounded exactly like something he would do- he felt the familiar panic from earlier rising up in him. And so he tried to block out what the knight was saying and instead tried to absorb all his surroundings in the hope that something would trigger a memory, but it was useless. Very occasionally, he felt a fleeting recognition, just as he had when he first saw the city, but it went in an instant, leaving him wondering whether he had felt it at all.

'Well,' Gwaine nodded, stopping outside a large door with patterned hinges and carved wood panels, 'this is where I leave you for now. King Tiden's chambers.'

'Thank you for explaining things.'

'No problem. Sorry it didn't help much, but if you've got any questions or you remember anything, or you just want to escape from your two royal employers, come and find me.'

'Thanks.'

'It's great to see you, Merlin,' Gwaine grinned, clapping him on the back. 'Hope you can say the same before long.'

Merlin smiled. The man's light hearted attitude was infectious. 'Me too.'

'I'll see you soon.'

Merlin nodded and watched as Gwaine headed off down the corridor. He had to admit that he could understand why he and the knight were friends. It had seemed so unlikely half an hour ago and now Merlin found that he believed it easily. He gave a sigh and then turned round. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to go and speak to Tiden; he was worried that the King would ask him questions about how this new revelation made him feel, and the truth was he didn't know the answer.

He looked down at the gift box in his hand; King Arthur had not picked it up, it had remained on the floor forgotten and so Merlin had brought it back up to return to the King. It seemed that the first part of their plan to work out Camelot's views on magic had failed. Compared to his personal discovery earlier, however, the failure seemed unimportant. Shifting the weight of the box onto one hand, Merlin raised the other and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' Tiden's voice called firmly. Merlin pushed open the door and stepped inside. He hid his disappointment at seeing Steven and not James in the chambers with Tiden and then gave a short bow. Before he had straightened up again, however, he felt a hand slam into his neck and gave a yell of alarm as he found himself thrown back against the door and held there by a sneering Steven. The box with the amulet skittered across the floor, throwing its contents against the wardrobe on the far side of the room.

'What are you doing?' he choked. Uncharacteristically, Steven didn't reply and instead fixed Merlin with a smug grin. It was Tiden who stepped forward and addressed Merlin.

'You were given the trust of the court.' The King's voice was cold and lacking all of its normal levity. Merlin frowned in confusion.

'I know,' Merlin gasped, his hands clawing at Steven's where they held him firmly. Merlin felt the man's fist connect with his stomach and gasped in pain, attempting to double over, but being unable to. 'What…?' he choked, but Steven tightened his hand around Merlin's neck. Panic began to take over his body as he realised that he couldn't breathe. He kicked out at the man and dug his finger nails into his arms in an attempt to loosen the grip, but Steven just pinned his legs and didn't seem to feel the damage to his arms. '…can't…' Merlin tried, but Steven just smiled.

Before Merlin registered what he was doing, he felt his magic surge and fly out at Steven in anger. The man stumbled backwards, looking very much like he had received a physical blow. Merlin, however, found himself crashing to the floor, choking and gasping in an attempt to draw in the much needed air that had been withheld from him.

'What are you doing?' he gasped, his voice hoarse from the previous attack and coloured with shock at what had just happened. Steven took another menacing step towards him, and Merlin scrambled backwards, hitting the wall. He considered holding his hand out for a moment, but he didn't want it to look like he was trying to use magic against Tiden. One look at the monarch, however, made Merlin rethink his peaceful approach. The man looked different to anything Merlin had ever seen in him before. The coldness in his features felt like a physical chill and Merlin struggled not to shudder and look away. 'Your Majesty, what have I done to warrant such treatment?'

'Stand up, Merlin,' the King told him. Merlin did so, but was very aware of the door just to his right. 'You have led my people into a trap.'

'What?' Merlin asked in shock.

'You led me to believe that you were sympathetic to Cyathia's cause and vision. You led me to believe that you would help us to ensure our kingdom's safety.' The words were as hard and as cold as stone and Merlin felt the weight of them as if they were being thrown at him. Tiden suddenly seemed to be a far more authoritative and steely figure than Merlin had ever seen him to be. He realised that he had seen glimpses of this version of the man on occasion, but nothing more concrete than that. Now, however, he was seeing underneath the surface that had been presented to him so far.

'Sire,' Merlin said, dropping to his knee and bowing his head. 'I agree wholeheartedly with the kingdom that Cyathia is creating and I am here to help you.'

'You are an employee of the royal household of Camelot,' Tiden told him, his voice dangerous as he took another step forwards.

'I don't remember anything,' Merlin said desperately.

'You are a spy. Your memory loss is a ruse that you have used to gain our trust.'

'What?' Merlin asked, his eyes wide. 'I assure you, Sire, that my memory loss is real.'

'You are a clever manipulator.

'I'm not manipulating anyone,' Merlin said desperately. 'It was your men that pulled me out of the river. I would have died without them. It was no trick. Please, Sire; you must believe me,' Merlin finished, his voice still hoarse from Steven's attack, but strong enough and desperate enough to at least cause Tiden to question his thoughts. He surveyed Merlin closely, his head tilted slightly to the side. He took a deep breath.

'You expect me to believe that you had not even the slightest inclination of your connection to Camelot?'

'I didn't, Sire. I don't know anything about my old life. It doesn't matter anyway,' Merlin continued, trying to make the man understand. 'It is with Cyathia that I wish to continue. My old life is not important.'

'You were manservant to the King of Camelot!' Tiden shouted, his voice like a knife in the quiet of the room.

'I didn't know,' Merlin repeated more quietly.

'And now you're my manservant.' The King shook his head as if he'd been taken for a fool and could barely believe it. Merlin frowned. Indignation filled him. Did the man still not believe him?

'You gave me that position,' Merlin argued, feeling a fight come into him at the implication that he had somehow sought power.

'You made yourself seem so invaluable,' the King sneered.

'I did no such thing,' Merlin said, finding himself suddenly back on his feet, his eyes fierce as he looked at the King. 'I never once tried to find favour or gain position. You gave me that yourself.'

'You dare to show such insolence to a king?' Tiden asked, taking another step forward, Steven right beside him, ready at any instant to launch another attack. Merlin suddenly felt the fight drain out of him. What was he doing? He was all but shouting at the King! But somehow it didn't seem wrong or unfamiliar.

'I do if my integrity and loyalty is questioned, my Lord,' Merlin said more gently, pouring respect into his voice. Tiden seemed unusually placated by the response. He paused for several seconds and Merlin saw the irritation in Steven when he was nodded to the other side of the room.

'Tell me, Merlin. Why would a sorcerer as powerful as you be working for Arthur Pendragon? And not just in recent times, but for six years?'

'I don't know, my Lord, but please believe me when I say that your goal for Cyathia is one that I share. It is my home now, not Camelot.'

'But this was your home. These people are your friends -including the King.' Merlin shifted uncomfortably at the words and the look on Tiden's face, but he didn't refute the comment. Gwaine had said as much to him earlier. Somewhere along the way, he really had been friends with the King of Camelot.

'They are not now,' he replied. 'I feel no connection to them, no recognition. I do not agree with their views on magic.'

'Then why were you here? In the very place you could be killed for your gifts?' the King asked him firmly.

'I don't know.'

'Does the King know of your magic?'

'I don't know,' Merlin repeated helplessly. I don't think so. Nobody else seems to. And surely if he knew I would have been executed.'

Tiden considered the words carefully for several seconds and then sat down at the table in the room, his gaze never leaving Merlin.

'Perhaps you are not the spy that I suspected you to be,' the King continued quietly after a long silence. Merlin was pleased by the man's use of the past tense. 'No, perhaps you are another spy in your own right. Perhaps this position that you held was a means to fighting against the Pendragon view on magic.'

Merlin's initial response was to argue against the assumption, but as he opened his mouth to do so, he found himself considering the words. Surely he hadn't been a spy; secretly working against the King of Camelot, whilst pretending to be his friend? Merlin felt nausea surge through him at the thought of such malicious intent on his part. That wasn't him; it couldn't be him. For one thing, his mother knew he was here, and she would not allow him to become that sort of person. Unless…he shook his head, but he couldn't stop the thoughts now. Unless she didn't know; perhaps he was lying to everybody. To his mother, to Gwaine, to King Arthur. Perhaps his entire life was a creation put in place to mask a darker purpose.

Merlin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He couldn't believe that. He couldn't believe that about the person he had become; the very thought made self-loathing swirl through his mind. Tiden had it wrong.

But then…why was he working in Camelot? Why was he in such close quarters with a King who would gladly see him dead if he knew the truth? Tiden was right. His position here made no sense unless explained through the King's assumptions. Perhaps there were circumstances that Merlin was not aware of, but he was at a loss to guess what they could possibly be. He opened his eyes to see Tiden watching him closely and Steven's face a mask of hateful amusement at the evident turmoil that Merlin was going through.

'I suppose it is a possibility, my Lord,' he replied heavily.

'Then perhaps you will prove even more helpful than I had hoped,' Tiden continued. He gestured to Merlin to sit down, which he did, trying not to show his unease at what the King was going to say. As soon as Merlin was seated, Tiden also took up position at the head of the table. 'You swear to me that your loyalty is to Cyathia?' he asked quietly, his gaze piercing.

'Yes,' Merlin replied instantly, because it was. It didn't matter what his life had been before; the one Cyathia offered was everything he had ever hoped for. Gwaine and King Arthur and everybody else who had been with him were no longer important; if what Tiden was saying about his subversive position in the court was true, then they had never been important to him anyway, only a means to an end. He swallowed down the self loathing that rose. He would not be that person anymore. He wouldn't play the enemy in disguise; he would help Tiden ensure Cythia's continuing safety and then his life would be his own again; one that he could choose for himself.

'You must prove your loyalty to me.'

'I will do,' Merlin nodded.

'I need something stronger than your word, Merlin,' the man continued, his eyes fixed intently on Merlin, making him want to look away. He managed to return the man's gaze, though. He wasn't sure that looking away would convince Tiden of his sincerity.

'What stronger way is there?'

The King said nothing, but nodded to Steven who came forward, only just managing to contain his loathing for Merlin. The man stood next to Merlin and began pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. For a moment, Merlin assumed that the man was just going to pummel him into the ground as a means of drawing out his loyalty, but instead he leaned forward and showed Merlin the top of his arm. Merlin frowned as he saw what Steven was trying to draw his attention to.

On his skin, almost burned into it, was a circular symbol, no more than a few inches in diameter. It comprised of four arms, each in the shape of sickle blade, curling round towards each other and all facing the same direction in the circle. Around the arms were tiny runes that Merlin couldn't read or understand, but they reminded him of the runes that were engraved into the amulet. The amulet, he realised, that was still lying on the floor, having not been picked up from when he'd dropped it. He hoped he hadn't damaged it.

'What is it?' he asked Tiden, his eyes only leaving the mark when Steven snapped his arm back and returned to where he had been standing behind Tiden.

'It is proof of Steven's loyalty to me, and to us all. A loyalty that is sealed with magic. Unbreakable.'

'And if he were to be disloyal…?' Merlin asked uncertainly.

'I would be made aware instantly. I bear a similar mark, one that lets me know who I can trust of my magical-sworn followers and who I must deal with.'

Merlin allowed the words to sink in. This seemed an extreme measure to take to prove his loyalty.

'You hesitate?' Tiden asked.

'No, my Lord. I just…' he scrambled to find words with which to finish the sentence, but they eluded him. He thought about what was being asked of him. He had sworn his loyalty to Tiden anyway and he meant what he was saying. If this was what he had to do to reassure the King, then it seemed a small sacrifice. 'What must I do?'

The process was short, much shorter than Merlin had expected. Tiden had the necessary potion to place on Merlin's skin and he explained to Merlin exactly what he must recite. He spoke the unfamiliar words with confidence; he couldn't understand them, but they felt right on his tongue, as if he had been used to using them in the past.

As soon as he had uttered the words, however, all sensations of familiarity disappeared. He felt magic shoot from the top of his arm throughout the rest of his body. It wasn't painful, as such, but it was uncomfortable, as if something was trying to reorder his magic and his mind, before fading into the background. He took several deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart and then, once he felt himself again, he looked back up at Tiden. The King was smiling widely at him. He nodded his approval.

'Now your loyalties are without question.'

'I am glad, my Lord. I wish to do anything I can to help Cyathia.'

'Then this is what you will do,' the King continued. 'You will go back into the employ of King Arthur.'

'What?' Merlin asked in shock.

'Where else could you be of more use?'

'Use for what?'

'You will determine his view on magic you will investigate ways of swaying them to be more inline with our own. If that fails, you will find a viable way of disrupting the talks.'

'You still want me to be a spy?' Merlin asked in barely concealed dismay.

'You have played the part in Camelot up until now. We can assume you are good at it,' Tiden continued, choosing to ignore the indecision on Merlin's part. There were several seconds of silence. How could he do this; it was this side of his past that he wanted to turn away from. 'You have just sworn loyalty to our cause.'

'I am loyal,' Merlin told him.

'Then complete this task. Once you do, you will never have to a play a part again. Cyathia will be safe with no bloodshed and no revelation to Arthur of our inheritance.'

'Is there no-one else?' Merlin asked slowly. He kept the desperation out of his voice, kept his tone level.

'There is no-one else who will be able to slip so effortlessly into Arthur's confidences. Do you not understand Merlin?' Tiden asked. 'Your presence in Arthur's court will ensure that our aim is carried out quickly and easily without loss of life or war. You are in the perfect position to liberate Cyathia from prejudice without a single violent exchange.'

Merlin considered the words. Could it be that if he went through with this final deception that he could end them all? That he could live without hiding? Live in the knowledge that he had saved Cyathia and protected her without the need for war? He looked at Tiden, saw the King waiting patiently for his response and eventually nodded. He would do this. He would end the lies that seemed to have been his entire life for years.

'It would be an honour,' he replied.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Hello again. Well, I've finally plotted out the rest of this story, so I know exactly where I'm going with it, which means that updates might –and I really do mean _might_- be a little bit more regular. There will be a few more chapters that set everything in place and then the action, intrigue (hopefully) and bromance will begin in earnest!

So, thank you very much for the reviews for the last chapter, and please let me know what you think of this one!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

'What?' Merlin asked indignantly, frowning at Peter as the boy laughed at him.

'So you're telling me,' he began incredulously, 'that not only are you King Tiden's manservant-

'Pretending to be King Tiden's manservant,' Merlin corrected.

'-but you're also manservant to King Arthur?'

'He's got another one at the moment,' Merlin tried weakly.

'But you're actually his manservant; the one they thought died getting thrown over the cliff?'

'How do you know that?'

'Some of Camelot's stable hands were talking to me.'

'About me?'

'Well, about the presumed-dead manservant.' Merlin just stared at him in confusion. 'There was this horse in the stables,' Peter explained with a sigh, 'really lovely horse, seemed to have a great temperament, but she was away from all the others, all the King's horses. They'd run out of room, so they wanted to put some of ours in with her, but they didn't seem too sure.'

'What has that got to do with me?' Merlin asked, feeling like Peter was trying to explain a completely different thing.

'I'm getting to it,' he said, 'you'll love it when you hear it.'

'What?'

'Well I asked about this horse and why she was being kept on her own and they said it was on King Arthur's orders; he wanted her taken out of the royal guard because of poor training.'

'And?' Merlin asked when Peter's eyes widened as if he was waiting for Merlin to catch on.

'Come on, Merlin, think.'

'I _think_ you need to explain to me what you're going on about,' he replied. Peter sighed and shook his head.

'She's your horse,' he said with a grin. 'She's the horse that got spooked by the snake and threw you off. The stable hands told me the whole story. Everyone knows you, Merlin!' he continued with another laugh of disbelief. 'I mean everyone. The stable hands said you were all anyone talked about for days. They lit candles for you and everything. They said the King sent searches out for you, that his knights had to take on some of his duties because he couldn't cope for a while.'

'That's…' Merlin went to say ridiculous, but he swallowed the words back down. He had seen King Arthur's reaction to him in the hall. A swell of guilt went through him as he thought about his conversation with Tiden, but he pushed it back. This was a better path to choose for himself than the one he had been on before.

'It's like you have this aura that says to kings, _'Hire me, hire me!'_'

Merlin rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the statement. He looked around the room they were in. It was simple and small, but comfortable, and Tiden was paying to keep some of his staff there, so Peter had said he couldn't really complain. He had been housed at an inn close to the stables; in fact the whole place seemed to be filled with stable hands. When Merlin had come to the inn and asked to see Peter, mentioning the fact that he was a stable hand, the innkeeper had just laughed at him.

'Can I see the horse?' Merlin asked after a few moments.

'What now?' Peter asked. 'Haven't you got servant duties to be seeing to?'

'Benjamin's taken over for now. Tiden's given me some time to think.'

'About what?'

Merlin shook his head. He hadn't shared details of his current mission with Peter yet. He wasn't entirely sure that Tiden would want him to know, and anyway, they had decided to postpone his visit to ask King Arthur for his old job for a day or two so as not to rouse any suspicions. Merlin doubted anyone would be suspicious anyway; he had a feeling that everyone was just waiting for it to happen. 'Everything, I suppose,' he shrugged. Peter frowned, but said nothing more.

'Well, I've been given complete access to the stables, so I don't see why we can't go down and see your jittery animal friend.'

It was no more than a five minute walk to get to the stables of Camelot. Merlin headed for the first block of stables he saw, but Peter shook his head and called him round the side of the building. Behind it, there were several stables that had evidently been put up temporarily for the influx of horses that Camelot had expected due to the talks. They walked past nine or ten of them, each –Peter said- housing up to twenty five horses, before they finally stopped at another structure. This one didn't look like it had been put up recently, it had stone walls at the bottom, which were covered in mosses. Merlin realised, as he went in, that it had been a storage barn; there were still telltale signs of barrels and crates stashed in corners, but stable dividers had been built so that it could hold horses.

The animals surveyed the newcomers with a wary indifference at first, but at Peter's voice they showed more interest and turned towards him. Peter walked over to the nearest one, a regal old grey stallion, whom Merlin knew was Peter's favourite.

'Hello boy,' he murmured stroking the horse gently. Merlin smiled as he watched the change that came over Peter. He had seen it several times in the last few days, but he enjoyed seeing it. The boy was usually so abrupt and fidgety, constantly changing topics or muttering on about this, that and the other, but when he was with horses a calmness seemed to come over him. He loved being with them.

Murmuring gently to the animal, Peter fed him a carrot from a supply box by the door and then gave him a few final pats.

'Shall we see your horse then?' Peter asked, turning to Merlin.

'Is he actually my horse?'

'She.'

'Well is _she_ actually my horse?'

'Not exactly, but the stable hands said that she was the one you always rode when you went anywhere with the King.' He walked over to the corner of the stables to a section that was penned off from the rest. A bay mare stood there, very dark in colour with a beautifully brushed black mane. Merlin followed Peter over to her, starring at the majestic creature. Having rarely ridden a horse –from what he could remember- Merlin found it difficult to believe that he had ever found himself riding such a beautiful animal, let alone been thrown over a cliff by her.

'Apparently no-one's been on her since your…'death.' The King wouldn't let them.' Merlin hid his discomfort at the extreme precautions the King had taken against the creature; after all, horses were spooked every day. 'Try talking to her, maybe she'll recognise you.'

Merlin wasn't convinced that she would, but he sighed and stepped forward.

'What's her name?' Merlin asked, but even at the quiet tone, her ears pricked up and she moved her head round.

'See, she knows you.' Merlin smiled to himself. 'She's called Zephyr.'

'Doesn't seem like a battle name,' Merlin frowned, again the mare tilted her head towards him.

'That's because you named her,' Peter grinned.

'The King let me name her?'

'No, apparently you named her that and then she wouldn't answer to anything else. The King was furious with you.'

'How long were you talking to these stable hands?' Merlin asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the fact that Peter seemed to know more about his missing life than he did.

'That's about all I found out. Now that I know _you're_ the manservant I'm going to be asking plenty more questions.' Merlin gave him a look, which he just laughed at. 'Call her over.'

'Zephyr,' he called gently. 'Come here girl. Zephyr.'

The horse didn't hesitate in trotting over to Merlin. Instantly she nuzzled his outstretched hand and pressed herself against the fence in order to get closer to him. Smiling, Merlin stroked her mane and murmured to her. She looked at him as if understanding every word.

'Do you remember her?'

'No, but I feel a connection to her. I think I used magic,' he whispered, lowering his voice. 'It's why she won't answer to any other name.'

'You enchanted your horse?'

'I must have done.' He looked back at the animal; she was sniffing at his hands, evidently looking for food. Merlin took the carrot that Peter offered and fed it to the gentle creature.

'I think you should ride her.'

'You think stealing a horse from the castle stables is a good idea?'

'Not now,' Peter told him, 'but, I mean, at some point you should. Maybe it would bring back memories of your accident.'

'Perhaps,' he replied absently; his focus had been taken up by the apparent affection of the creature in front of him; she stood there, loyally watching him, as if waiting to see whether Merlin would take her out. 'You're beautiful,' he told her and she flicked her head in response. With a shake of his head, Merlin stepped back, smiling to himself, and then turned his attention to the rest of the stable. It seemed bigger than the ones they had already walked past. 'Are these all our horses?' Merlin asked Peter, who was replacing the lid on the supply box that he'd taken the carrots from.

'Yeah. Well, apart from the one that was borrowed earlier. They're a bit cramped in here, but it's not too bad. There's an exercise yard for them anyway.'

'Someone borrowed one of Cyathia's horses?' Merlin asked, thinking back over the hundreds of horses they'd already walked past.

'One of Steven's sheep,' Peter said, his disdain for the man and anyone connected with him more than evident in his voice. Merlin frowned and followed Peter as he walked out of the barn.

'Well isn't he back yet?'

'I can't see the horse. He took Torrent; he's a fast one, and they didn't half race out of here.'

Merlin stopped at the words; something stirred in his mind, a suspicion of sorts. 'When was this?'

'I don't know,' Peter shrugged. 'Just as everyone was coming out of your reunion in the throne room. Why does it matter?'

'Well, where was he going? There's no reason to leave the city.'

'You think Steven's up to something?' Peter asked, his voice lowering.

'It just seems odd that he'd send one of his men out.'

'I'll tell you what,' Peter said, 'I'll let you know when he gets back and I'll keep my ear to the ground a bit. Steven won't be able to resist boasting about it if he's doing something.'

Merlin nodded his thanks, but said nothing else. Steven had been with the King when the meeting had ended. When would he have gone to speak with his men? Merlin guessed that he had been with Gwaine for about half an hour; perhaps during that time Steven had spoken to his friends, or perhaps his friends weren't acting under Steven's instructions.

Merlin shook his head to clear it; what did it matter? There was no reason for him to get involved or get suspicious, but already it seemed too late to be thinking like that. Some spark of curiosity had lit in him; one that felt familiar, which only served to worry him more.

He tried not to think about it as he said goodnight to Peter and walked back to the castle. He had more important things to focus on; the most important one at the moment being finding out where his room was. One of the knights, a Sir Percival, who apparently was also one of his many friends, had turned up in Tiden's quarters that afternoon saying that the Queen had offered Merlin a room to stay in; the room that he had apparently lived in with the physician, Gaius, who was currently with Merlin's mother in Ealdor.

After the knight had left, Merlin assured Tiden that he would quite happily stay in the servants' quarters that had been assigned to Cyathian staff, but Tiden had been keen for him to take up the Queen's offer, saying that it would help to make his transition back to being Arthur's servant in a day or so, more convincing. On that basis, Merlin had allowed one of Camelot's servants to show him the room and had then promptly headed back out of the castle to find Peter. He only hoped he could remember where the room was now.

As it turned out, his sense of direction was remarkably good and he found the room very quickly; he tried to ignore the whispering voice that told him the journey had seemed almost instinctual and quickly pushed the door to his chambers open. The moment he walked in, he was hit with an almost overwhelming sense of comfort; like a warm fire after a day out in the cold. The room should have made him feel distinctly _uncomfortable_, what with its array of book piles, scattered about potions and phials and its general disorder -every surface was covered with something- but instead the chaos felt right; as if anything else would have been unusual.

No, the room didn't make him feel uncomfortable, but the Queen and a strange man sitting in the middle of it, did make him feel _very_ uncomfortable. She stood up as he walked in, her expression showing a slight nervousness, but her smile showing only joy.

Merlin staggered to a halt and bowed his head quickly.

'Queen…' he began, but felt his face grow hot as he realised that he couldn't remember her name. What had the King called her earlier?' 'My Lady,' he said instead, but his slip had been obvious. He glanced up to see the look of disappointment disappear from her face to be replaced with a smile that made him feel a fraction more at ease.

'It's alright, Merlin,' she said gently. 'My name's Guinevere.'

'My Lady,' Merlin nodded uncertainly, taking a few more steps into the room, but keeping a respectful distance from her.

'It's Gwen,' she said softly. 'It's short for Guinevere.'

Merlin's eyes went wide. Was she seriously suggesting that he call her by a nickname? 'It doesn't feel quite right addressing the Queen by her name, my Lady,' he replied hastily, silently wishing that he'd stayed away a little longer.

'I was your friend long before I was Queen,' she explained. 'In fact I was a servant with you for many years before I married Arthur.'

'You were a servant?' Merlin asked incredulously, his shock at the information overriding his unease for just a moment. The look on her face was one of amusement, but it was tinted with sadness that Merlin knew was to do with him. He had been friends with the Queen as well as the King? He had worked with her as a servant? Merlin felt another wave of guilt flood him. He hadn't just fooled his way into the knights' company and the King's, but the Queen's as well? He recoiled at the thought of what power of influence he had had over Camelot. He could have orchestrated anything if he really chose to.

'Yes, and your friend also. Which is why you must call me Gwen.'

'I will try to remember that my L- Gwen… my Lady.' He shook his head and looked up at her.

'Give it time.' Merlin just nodded. 'Are you alright?' she asked uncertainly, taking several steps towards him and resting a hand on his arm. Merlin looked at her in shock. 'I'm sorry,' she told him, moving her hand from his arm, but squeezing it gently as she did. 'I shouldn't have just turned up here like this, but I couldn't find you today.'

'I've been doing a lot for the King- I mean for King Tiden, not…' he trailed off, shaking his head.

'It's alright,' she assured him. 'I can imagine this must be so confusing for you, but we want to help: Arthur and I.'

'Really, you don't have to-'

'No, we do,' she told him firmly. 'I know you don't remember anything Merlin, but you must be assured of how much everybody loves you in Camelot; how much we grieved for you and how overjoyed we are that you are alive.' And he believed every word she said; the truth was in the way her face shone as she spoke, the way her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.

'Thank you, my Lady, but you didn't have to come here to tell me that; you have more important things to be seeing to, I'm sure.'

'You're important, Merlin. We want to help you as much as we can. This,' she continued, moving away from him and back to the other man who had been watching the proceedings carefully, scrutiny in his eyes. '…is Edward. I'm sure Arthur mentioned him to you earlier, so I-'

'King Arthur hasn't come to speak to me,' Merlin interrupted with a frown, before realising what he had done. 'My Lady, I'm sorry,' he blustered, 'I shouldn't have spoken over you.' The Queen frowned at him, but she didn't seem bothered by the interruption. 'My Lady?' Merlin ventured.

'Arthur hasn't spoken to you?'

'No,' Merlin replied, confused himself now at her response. 'I haven't seen him since the meeting this morning.'

The Queen said nothing, and seemed to realise that her silence was making the two other occupants of the room a little nervous. She shook her head slightly and straightened up. 'My apologies; this is Edward; he's standing in as Court Physician while Gaius is with your mother. I've asked him to speak to you about your memory loss to see if we can find a way of reversing it.'

'There's no need,' Merlin told her. 'The physicians in Cyathia had a look at me.'

'Please,' she said, and there was something a little more desperate in her tone, something that Merlin felt himself responding to instantly. He tried not to let himself be drawn in, but one look at her face crumbled his resolve. She didn't look like a queen at that moment, despite all the finery she was dressed in. No, she looked like a friend desperate to feel like she was doing something, anything, to make things better.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded, 'if you think it might help.'

Gwen nodded, her relief evident. 'Thank you.' Both of them looked at him expectantly.

'Right now?' he asked in shock. The look on the Queen's face answered his question.

* * *

Arthur had been about to send out a patrol to find Guinevere when she finally reappeared in their chambers.

'There you are,' he said gently. 'I was wondering where you'd got to.' She gave him a small smile and then hung up her cloak.

'I would have thought you'd be too busy to worry about me,' she said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling a night robe from it, before laying it out on the bed and then returning all her jewellery to the ornamental box on the bedside table. A small slither of warning crept along Arthur's neck.

'Are you alright?' he asked carefully.

'I'm fine,' she nodded. 'Have you been busy today?'

'I've been getting ready for tomorrow,' he frowned, 'but nothing else really. Why?'

'No reason.' She picked up a brush from the table and began combing her hair gently, pulling out a few of the clasps that were holding it in place. Arthur was going to suggest that she call up her maidservant to help her get ready for bed, but he had a feeling that the comment would not go down well. 'I went to see Merlin,' she suddenly said, putting the brush down and turning to face him. The abrupt change in conversation took him a little by surprise, but as soon as he had recovered, his curiosity was roused.

'And how was he?' he asked hesitantly, sorting through the papers on his table so that he didn't have to look at his wife. He had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going.

'I took Edward to see him. He looked at the scars from his injuries and asked about the memory loss.'

'And…?'

Gwen turned and looked at him, accusation evident on her face.

'What?' he asked sharply, feeling his defences rise.

'Why didn't you go and speak to him?' she asked, her tone full of something that sounded annoyingly like disappointment. Arthur felt his expression harden at the question.

'I've been…' he began, before realising that Guinevere had already checked that he hadn't been busy.

'Yes?' she asked, her expression remaining unchanged. Arthur sighed and left the pile of papers where they were, but he could think of no way to respond. 'You said you were going to see him,' she continued, her irritation mixing with a sadness that made Arthur feel guilty.

'No I didn't; you just suggested I should.'

'Then why didn't you?'

Arthur shook his head again and walked over to her; she didn't allow her expression to soften, but he could sense her anger subsiding as he sat on the bed and took her hand, pulling her down until she was sat beside him.

'I…' he began, but he felt ashamed. He shook his head. 'I…I can't,' he whispered. 'I just can't go and speak to him and pretend that…' He tailed off and shrugged before looking back up at Guinevere; she was looking at him with a certain degree of sympathy which he took comfort in.

'Arthur,' she began gently, clasping her other hand over the top of his, 'Merlin needs you.'

'No he doesn't. He doesn't even remember me.'

'Which is why he needs you,' Guinevere argued. 'You need to help him remember.' Arthur shook his head again, looking away from her and studying the floor.

'I can't do it; I just can't.'

'Arthur…'

'No,' he replied, standing up. 'It's been over six weeks since the accident; if he was going to remember anything then he would have done by now.'

'Edward said that memory return can take time.' Arthur was still shaking his head. He refused to let himself listen to the words that his wife was speaking; not because he disagreed with them, but because they were filled with uncertainty; there was no guarantee in anything that she or Edward were saying.

The truth was that Arthur couldn't let himself cling onto the hope that Merlin would regain his memories because it was a hope that offered no assurances. Yes, he could go and see Merlin, he could try and jog his memory; he could recount everything that had happened to the two of them for the past six years. He knew that each time he would invest just a little bit more of himself in the endeavour; he would allow himself to be drawn further into the hope that Merlin would one day remember and be himself once more, and then somewhere down the line that hope would shatter and leave him even more empty than he had felt since Merlin's supposed death.

He felt terrible thinking it, but the truth was that he would rather have endured the grief of loosing Merlin, than the torment of seeing someone who looked like him, sounded like him, was him, and yet had none of the memories or experiences that had made him the Merlin that Arthur knew. It would be a constant reminder of everything he had lost in his friendship with Merlin; he would live in the desperation and longing of trying to recapture a connection that had been severed forever.

'Arthur.' He looked up in surprise when he found Guinevere standing next to him, a hand on his arm. 'If anyone in Camelot can help him to remember, then it's you. He needs you, Arthur. Merlin has never let you down in the past; make sure you don't let him down now. If it was the other way round, what do you think Merlin would be doing?'

The words stayed with Arthur long into the night; sleep eluding him until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: As cautiously promised, I have updated a little earlier than usual. Thank you very much for the reviews. As always, they are a huge encouragement. Keep them coming! This is sort of the chapter where the next part of the story really kicks off, so I hope you enjoy it. It also happens to be quite long.

I'll try and keep up the more regular updates, but it'll depend entirely on work. I'll do my very best.

Anyway, here you go!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Merlin would never have thought that being manservant to the King would be so boring. It was the second day of their visit to Camelot and he had been standing in the Council chambers for what felt like –and probably was- hours. His arm was aching mercilessly from holding the water jug that he was using to top up King Tiden's goblet. Benjamin had seemed a little put out when Tiden had said that Merlin would be attending him during the initial meeting of the Kings and Queens, but Merlin wouldn't have liked anything better at that moment than to walk out and hand the water jug over to the other servant.

Of course, he knew why he was here; Tiden had told him quite clearly. It was his job to watch the reactions of the other monarchs in the room to try and ascertain how keen they were for these peace talks to continue. His task would be extended to include the man and maidservants later on -trying to get information from them on their employers' opinions on the union- but for now he was to be a subtle observer of the royals gathered.

It had seemed quite important at first, as if he actually had some way of being involved in securing Cyathia's safety, but it soon became very apparent who was for and against the talks and who was wholly undecided; Merlin doubted very much that Tiden, James or Steven –who were both in the meeting as the King's counsel- would need his expertise on the matter. He did keep more of an eye on the undecided monarchs, trying to ascertain which way they were being swayed, but past that he found himself getting more and more bored.

So it was that his focus began to drift away from the talks and onto the young King Arthur who he apparently knew so well. Merlin had gone into the meeting of the opinion that Arthur was most definitely a noble King -he had thought that at the welcome meeting when he had spoken so strongly and so warmly to his Cyathian guests- but as Merlin watched this meeting, he became more and more aware of the wisdom in the young ruler. It was by no means fully developed, but it was more than evident that he had thought very carefully about how different kingdoms might view the talks and how they would react. Everything he said was crafted to set them at ease and reassure them. No-one felt threatened in this meeting, not by Camelot anyway, some of the other kingdoms were much more forceful in their views, but even then, the King was able to diffuse potentially volatile situations with carefully chosen words.

The more Merlin watched him, the more he found himself admiring this King who he had been plotting against for six years and it again brought about feelings of self-loathing in him. He pushed them down. He would not be that person now; the plot that he was currently a part of would not be a destructive one. It would bring separation, yes, but it would also bring peace and security to Cyathia.

In his observations of the King, however, Merlin soon noticed that the focus wasn't entirely one sided. Though the man tried to hide it, he frequently glanced over at his former servant, although he often didn't seem to realise what he was doing until he caught Merlin's eye. Then suddenly he would look away and shuffle uncomfortably as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Merlin wasn't sure what to make of it. Either way, he was beginning to feel as uncomfortable as the King looked.

A raised hand from Tiden caught Merlin's attention and he walked over to the table in order to refill his King's cup.

* * *

Although Arthur didn't watch as Merlin filled King Tiden's goblet for what had to be the tenth time, he was aware of every movement that his manservant –former manservant- made. Matters were not helped by the fact that Merlin was dressed in his usual attire. Whether they were the same clothes that he had been wearing on the day of the accident, or whether he had simply retrieved his clothes from Gaius' chambers, Arthur wasn't sure, but it was so achingly familiar to him that he was struggling to keep the emotional distance that he had tried to build up over the past day. It was like his brain couldn't allow a single action that Merlin took to go unnoticed, at least in some small measure.

And it was driving Arthur mad. Not least because he needed to concentrate on these talks. Currently, King Chalere of Elnet was voicing some not so subtle suggestions that Camelot's main aim behind these talks was to ensure power over the whole of the land, and yet Arthur's attention was only half focussed on the insinuations that Chalere was making.

The rest of his attention was on Merlin filling up King Tiden's goblet, his shoulders hunched slightly as they always were and his body leaning into the task like the jug was somehow an extension of him. His head was down and he fulfilled the task with the utmost care, far more care than he had been want to take when he had filled Arthur's cup during long meetings. On more than one occasion, Merlin had knocked over Arthur's goblet, and he wasn't entirely sure that it had always been an accident.

Arthur watched Merlin now, watched how he listened more intently to the conversation while trying to act like he wasn't; Arthur could see it in the way his eyes gazed down at the ground as if he was trying to see behind himself.

Arthur couldn't help but consider his current manservant standing behind him. Apart from when the boy had filled his goblet at the start of the meeting, Arthur had yet to ask him for anything else. Suddenly, he had an irrational urge to call Merlin over and ask him to refill his goblet instead. He could swap his servant with Merlin for a few minutes. Realising how utterly ridiculous his thoughts were becoming, he shook his head.

'Do you dismiss my concerns so flippantly?' Chalere asked, his eyes narrowing and his voice turning brittle. Beside the man, his queen also cast an accusing glare at Arthur.

'My apologies, King Chalere,' Arthur began haltingly, nodding his apology at the King and Queen. He cursed himself for getting distracted while, at the same time, trying to ignore the way Merlin's head had snapped up from where he was so diligently performing his duties. 'I did not mean to be impertinent, but let me assure you that Camelot's motives are entirely honourable. These talks are a means to creating a unity across the land that will ensure security for all.'

'You expect us to believe that a kingdom as powerful as Camelot would share power with others? Your history is not steeped in peacemaking.'

'No,' Arthur nodded, inwardly taking a very deep breath. 'But I intend to make sure that our future is entirely built on that ideal. Where power is concerned, Camelot is not trying to seek it for herself. In this kingdom, we have seen the corruption of power and its devastating consequences. I, along with all my council, have no desire to rule over this land as a single authority. We wish to create an interlocking body of authorities, each with their own individual identity, but also sharing a united purpose and connection. These talks are not about the distribution of power, but the pursuit of a lasting and strengthening alliance.'

Arthur looked at each of the kings and queens in turn as he spoke, trying to convey to them the sincerity in his words. Looking around, it was easy to see who was swayed and who was remaining cautious or hostile. He felt Guinevere's hand on his under the table, while Leon sat on his left, stoic in his silent support of the King. Both of them gave him the courage to simply wait for the responses of the rulers around him.

'We trust your words Arthur,' King Gethin of Powys said, inclining his head respectfully. 'Throughout your family's reign you have shown yourself to be a trustworthy friend and ally.' Arthur nodded his head in thanks. He had expected the support of Powys; their two kingdoms had had several friendly interactions over the years. Gwynedd's Queen, Iola, was next to speak, but while her support was clear, her reservations were also plain. Her kingdom was far off and relatively small. Until a bigger alliance had been preserved, it would be hard to ask her to join her kingdom's loyalties to those of Camelot. Arthur had expected as much; there were no surprises there. It was the other kingdoms that were more of an enigma. King Chalere had already expressed his concerns quite vocally, but the other monarchs were harder to read. King Brayden of the wealthy kingdom of Deira said very little, but the way the man seemed to listen to Chalere convinced Arthur that he wouldn't be so easily won over as the kingdom of Powys.

Cambia and her King, Nyle, were even more of a mystery. The man said little in support of either Arthur or Chalere, making Arthur wonder why the King had chosen to come to the talks in the first place. And King Tiden had barely said anything. With Cyathia being such an insular kingdom anyway, it was almost impossible for Arthur to guess how Tiden felt. He distantly wondered whether Merlin knew the King's thoughts, but dismissed the idea quickly. He had only been in that kingdom for a few weeks; no where near enough time to be in the King's confidence.

The conversation between the monarchs continued for some time and Arthur allowed it to; he needed to listen to what they were saying and find a common ground to start on, but as the discussion continued, he became more and more overwhelmed by the difficulty of the task. A feeling which was not eased when King Nyle and King Chalere began trading barely concealed insults with each other. Arthur rolled his eyes and instinctively looked over to Merlin who, so many times in the past, had shared an amused smirk with Arthur when somebody started acting like an arrogant fool in a meeting.

It was several seconds before he realised what he was doing, several seconds where he looked at Merlin and waited for some sort of response from him. All he got was a frown of confusion, before the man seemed to get uncomfortable at the attention the King of Camelot was giving him. He bowed his head in a show of respect and then moved back.

Arthur pulled himself up sharp, once again cursing his stupidity. What was wrong with him? He knew that Merlin didn't remember him; the fact haunted him every minute of every day, but still his mind kept on trying to trick him into forgetting. He looked away, his heart suddenly pounding and his face growing warm. He had to get control of his emotions. And of these talks for that matter.

Clearing his throat, Arthur stood up. The motion instantly got the attention of all those gathered and Nyle and Chalere ceased their pointless argument about past hurts that the kingdoms had endured. Arthur's research had mentioned that the two kingdoms had had conflicts in the past. Perhaps that was where King Nyle's reluctant silence stemmed from.

'It is good to discuss our hesitancies and hopes, but we must maintain our respect for one another. Nothing can be built if there is no respect on which to lay our foundations.'

'And what of trust?' Chalere asked pointedly. 'You expect to build a union without it?'

'Of course not,' Arthur replied calmly, though his hands were clenched into fists just below the rim of the table; he felt Guinevere's hand slowly unfold one of his and drew calmness from her gentle action. 'But trust must be earned, and that can not be an instant thing. It must be created in its own time. It may be that we need to place our hope in one another before we place our trust. I am willing to do that in order to build a safer land for the generations to come. I ask you to speak gently but truthfully now, in order to bring that dream to fruition.'

It seemed to work. Before long the rulers were engaged in a respectful, if not-quite-friendly conversation which began to address the issues and difficulties that would have to be faced in order for all kingdoms to feel happy in a new union. It went on for a very long time and even Arthur, who was thrilled at the more positive turn of events, began to feel tired. He was about to open his mouth to draw the discussion to a close when he caught sight of Merlin once again. Arthur was hard pressed to suppress a smile as he saw the young man try and fail to stop himself from yawning. It felt so familiar that Arthur almost forgot again. How often had he glared at Merlin in a meeting for yawing or, alternatively, nodded in agreement as nobles, lords and ladies went on and on about inconsequential things? It had been a shared understanding between them, an acknowledgement that they were both bored and wishing to be elsewhere.

And then Merlin looked at him, his face colouring with embarrassment at having been caught, and his body snapping back to the official pose of a waiting-servant. Arthur felt all familiarity drain away; leaving him staring sadly at the servant who at times seemed so like Merlin and at others seemed to bear no resemblance whatsoever to the man Arthur had known.

* * *

'Hey, manservant to two Kings!'

Merlin rolled his eyes at Peter's shout across the courtyard. He turned to see the boy running over to him.

'Will you stop saying that,' he muttered in a hushed tone, only to be met by Peter's grinning face.

'I found out plenty more about you today, do you want to hear?'

'I don't know, do I?' Merlin asked as Peter fell into step beside him. He was heading back to his chambers having finally finished meeting with the King, Steven and James to discuss his views of the other kingdoms represented. Tiden had asked him to meet with the other servants at the evening meal and try to ascertain their thoughts on their masters' and mistresses' views, but until then, he was free to spend his time as he wanted. His plan had been to go back and explore his old chambers and look for clues as to what he had been doing in Camelot all these years; a plan that seemed even more important after having to go through a whole meeting with King Arthur keeping an eye on him.

'Some of it is very interesting,' Peter nodded. 'Did you know, you once drank poison for King Arthur and then he set off on a quest to save you? Only he wasn't King then and his father actually forbade him from going. And he did it anyway,' Peter finished incredulously.

'I'm sure it wasn't that dramatic,' Merlin replied, nodding towards a doorway that would lead to his chambers to stop Peter from wandering off down the wrong corridor.

'Trust me, the servants say it was. And they say you literally went everywhere with Arthur; I mean _everywhere._ He took you on quests, into battles, hunting. You even go on picnics with the King and Queen.'

Merlin absorbed the information warily; obviously he had been keeping a very close eye on the young monarch; no doubt trying to gather information that could be used against him. And it sounded like it had been easy.

'Anything else I should know?'

'Loads, but I'll save that for later. I came to keep you updated on our slippery friend.'

'Steven?' Merlin asked.

'Do you have any other slippery friends? Or perhaps enemies would be the better word. Anyway, that guy from his little 'gang', you know the one who took off yesterday afternoon?' Merlin nodded. 'He got back an hour or so ago; he had a bag of something –didn't look very heavy- but I think he took that when he went yesterday.' He frowned as he tried to remember, but then shook his head. 'Anyway, the horse was exhausted; wherever they'd been must have been quite some distance and they were in a hurry.'

'Did anybody meet him?'

'Not that I could see,' Peter sighed, but I couldn't follow him; I had to see to the horses. He must have gone and spoken to Steven though.'

'He can't have done,' Merlin said with a frown, 'Steven's been in the same meeting as me for the past couple of hours.'

Peter stopped dead on the stairs and turned to face Merlin.

'What's the matter?' Merlin asked.

'Well if he hasn't been able to speak to him because of the meeting, then surely he's on his way to see him now. You need to go and find out what he says.'

'What?'

'I mean it,' he continued, giving Merlin a slight shove back down the stairs. 'We need to go and listen in on Steven; it's the perfect way to find out where he sent his friend off to.'

Merlin looked uncertainly at Peter. Yes, he could probably find his way to Steven's quarters without too much trouble, but spying on him? He wasn't entirely sure that he'd be subtle enough for that sort of endeavour, but, he reminded himself, he must have done his fair share of spying over the past few years, and he evidently hadn't gotten caught. And if Steven was up to something then he needed to know; for all Merlin knew he could be plotting something against Tiden or against Camelot. Or, the far more likely scenario, against Merlin.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded, determination flooding through him. Peter grinned.

'This is so much more exciting than just sitting in the stables all day,' he said, heading back down the stairs.

'You're not coming with me,' Merlin told him, racing past and heading back across the courtyard.

'What? Why not?'

'Let's just say that I have an excuse for being in the castle and you don't.' And with that he ran back up into the castle, leaving Peter glaring at his back.

Once inside it was easy to blend into the hive of activity. There were, quite literally, people everywhere. The corridors were crammed full of soldiers carrying out duties for their respective leaders, servants transporting linens and cleaning equipment to different rooms and general carriers transporting supplies to different places throughout the castle. As such, it was easy for Merlin to slip through the crowds unnoticed. Once or twice he saw servants nodding at him, or heard someone call his name in greeting -evidently the servants of Camelot- but with so many people about he was mostly just another servant. As he climbed towards the guest chambers, however, the crowds thinned out and he felt more and more exposed. He frantically tried to come up with a cover story for why he was up here, just in case he was caught, but at that moment he heard running footsteps on the stairs behind him.

Something about their urgency set him on edge and he side stepped behind a gleaming suit of armour that was pushed up into an alcove. Seconds later, a figure burst through the archway at the end of the hall and Merlin suppressed a smug grin as he saw one of Steven's lackeys, one who was obviously tired after a long ride: he was covered in dust from head to toe and his forehead gleamed with sweat. The man headed down the hall in the direction of Steven's chambers and Merlin quietly moved from his hiding place and began to follow, glancing back over his shoulder to see if anyone else was on their way to the meeting.

'Merlin!'

Merlin froze and closed his eyes in frustration at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned back and forced a smile onto his face.

'Gwaine,' he nodded.

'So you still remember my name then?' he asked with a broad grin. 'Anything else come back?' he asked hopefully.

'Not yet,' he shrugged, casting a surreptitious glance down the corridor. He obviously wasn't subtle enough.

'Are you looking for someone?' Gwaine asked, titling his head to one side. 'I've just been bringing the royal guards up to date on the security arrangements. Wouldn't have thought there was anyone down here that you'd want to talk to.'

'No, not looking for anyone.'

'So you're up here because…?'

'I was going to try and speak to King Tiden,' he said slowly.

'His room isn't on this corridor.'

'Isn't it?'

'No,' Gwaine said slowly, a frown on his face. 'Merlin, are you sure you're alright?'

'Yes, I'm fine. I must have just got lost. You know, memory and everything,' he said, tapping his head.

Gwaine surveyed him for several seconds as if debating whether to ask more questions, but in the end he seemed to decide against it.

'Look, I can take you to Tiden's room if you want, but why don't you just take the afternoon to have a look around Camelot? It might jog your memory. And besides, I'm on patrol down in the town; I can show you around, help you to remember a few things.'

'Really, you don't need to do that,' Merlin smiled, aware of the time passing by very quickly.

'It'd be my pleasure. And really, it'd just be great to have you around.'

The sound of footsteps behind them made both men turn and Merlin felt his heart sink as he saw Steven's man coming back the other way, his stride more relaxed now and his breathing more even. Whatever message he had been passing on, he had already done it. Merlin hid his disappointment.

'What do you say?' Gwaine asked, evidently oblivious to Merlin's emotions.

'Perhaps you could show me the way back to my old chambers, the ones I shared with…Gaius. I'd quite like to look through my things.'

'Sure; probably a good idea.'

They walked back through the crowded citadel with Gwaine chatting away quite happily. The conversation was perfectly pleasant until the knight asked what Arthur had said to him. When Merlin informed Gwaine that he hadn't spoken to the King, the knight began muttering some choice words under his breath, words that Merlin wasn't entirely sure were befitting of a knight who was devoted to his leader. He had tried to assure the man that it didn't bother him, but Gwaine didn't seem inclined to listen. So it was that by the time they reached the chambers, Merlin was quite glad to be rid of the somewhat angry knight.

He pushed open the doors and surveyed the unfamiliar and yet somehow familiar room before him. With a sigh he moved forward and stood in the middle of the room, looking from wall to wall. He was angry with himself for not having been able to find out what Steven had been up to, but perhaps his room would offer him answers of a different sort.

He gazed around once more. The question was: where should he begin?

* * *

A knock on the door pulled Arthur from his musings over the letter that had arrived that evening from Ealdor. It had been Elyan who Leon had asked to go and give the good news to Gaius and Hunith, and he had appeared at Arthur's door an hour or so ago having just returned from his trip. Guinevere had then gone with him to have a meal so that the two of them could catch up, leaving Arthur to his own thoughts. Arthur wasn't entirely happy with the contents of the letter, but there was little he could do about it for now. They would just have to wait a little longer for Gaius' return.

Arthur called for whoever had knocked on his door to come in. He assumed it would be the servant-who-wasn't-Merlin, as he usually appeared at this time of the evening, so Arthur was surprised when it was Gwaine who walked into his chambers. He heart sank at the look the knight gave him; he knew exactly what this visit was going to be about.

'Good evening, Princess,' he began, casually walking into the room and looking round as if searching for something. Arthur gritted his teeth at the nickname. Gwaine hadn't called him that for a very long time.

'Gwaine,' he nodded.

'I was just coming to speak to our illustrious leader, brave knight and fearless warrior of the realm,' Gwaine continued, his voice light. He paused and looked at Arthur, his face smoothing out. 'Have you seen him?'

Arthur turned back to the parchment in his hand.

'I don't have time for this,' he said sharply, putting the letter down on his table and fixing his gaze coolly on Gwaine.

'Really? That's strange because I clearly remember you disappearing off into the town for a couple of hours this evening, just to clear your head.'

'So you're spying on me now?'

'I'm one of your knights!' he said incredulously. 'I'm meant to spy on you. Remember that little oath we took. Protect the King, fight for Camelot, honour, loyalty and all that.'

'It's none of your business how I spend my time,' Arthur snapped at him.

'He's been back for over a day and you haven't said a word to him,' Gwaine continued, completely ignoring Arthur's comment.

'I have things to prepare for tomorrow,' he replied, heading over to his cupboard and pulling out several scrolls that had absolutely nothing to do with tomorrow's talks.

'You haven't been to see him, you haven't asked after him.'

'I have asked after him,' he argued, thinking back to his unsuccessful attempt to get information out of his wife yesterday evening. He hadn't really spoken to her since then and he suspected that her meal with Elyan this evening was partly to make sure that Arthur didn't have an excuse for not going to see Merlin. 'And I did see him,' he added, when Gwaine all but blocked his way to the table as he tried to move towards it.

'Watching him serve Tiden drinks at the Kings' meeting doesn't count.'

Arthur pushed past the man, but he moved stubbornly towards the table, fixing Arthur with a look that clearly said he wasn't going anywhere.

'I have other things to think about for the moment.'

'Well you need to give some time to this.'

'He doesn't care whether I speak to him or not,' Arthur argued.

'How would you know? You haven't spoken to him to ask.'

'Why would he care? He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know who any of us are.'

'So that's it? He doesn't remember, so you're not going to try?' Gwaine asked, looking at him with such disappointment that Arthur clenched his fists at his side, his anger boiling. Gwaine shook his head and laughed a humourless laugh which just made Arthur angrier. 'You've got Merlin back from the dead-'

'But that's not Merlin is it!' Arthur shouted, the words spilling out in his frustration. 'That isn't Merlin, not anymore. It's just someone who looks like him and wants to live in Cyathia as a servant to King Tiden.'

Arthur hadn't planned the outburst, but it stopped Gwaine in his tracks, which was a good enough reason to have let it out. Arthur expected the knight to back down, to mutter some words of encouragement or understanding. It was what Merlin would have done, what Merlin had always done when Arthur had reasonably or unreasonably –as was more often the case- lashed out at him. And then he had always said something to help the situation. That was what Merlin would have done.

But Gwaine was not Merlin.

He looked at Arthur, shaking his head slowly, the disappointment from before even more evident.

'You're a coward,' he said quietly. He turned and walked out of the door, leaving Arthur staring after him. He tried to summon up anger or, at the very least, irritation at what the knight had said, but he couldn't. With shock he realised that he completely agreed with every word that had just come out of the man's mouth.

Arthur stared at the closed door for several seconds, his fists clenched together, before sitting down on the chair and putting both his hands out on the table. He took several deep breaths to try and dispel his anger so that he could approach the situation more objectively.

In the end it was simple. Gwaine was right; Guinevere was right; everyone was right: he should have spoken to Merlin by now. He leaned back in the chair and rested his head against it. What was he doing? No, maybe it wasn't the same Merlin who had joked with him about smiling at women on their tour around the kingdom, or the Merlin who would complain incessantly about all the work Arthur made him do, but then stay up half the night writing a speech for Arthur that he hadn't asked for help with. It wasn't the same Merlin who came in grinning every morning because he knew he could irritate Arthur just by waking him up. No, he wasn't that Merlin, but he was someone who had once been _that_ Merlin and maybe could be again one day.

But that didn't make it any easier.

What would he even say? What should he say more to the point? How much should he tell this new Merlin about what his life had been before? What sort of pressure would that put on him? Arthur shook his head and gave an emotionless laugh. As if Merlin would feel pressure to be anything other than himself. No, it was Arthur who would feel the pressure of their previous relationship; after all, Merlin didn't even remember it.

Arthur swallowed down the sadness that rose in him at the thought. He hadn't thought it possible to lose somebody in so many different ways, and yet he had. He'd lost Merlin in death, he'd lost Merlin in work, he'd lost Merlin in memories and he'd lost him in friendship.

'But not in person,' he heard himself say. The words surprised him; he hadn't known he was thinking them, let alone expected himself to say them, but they sent a flood of determination coursing through him. He stood up. Yes, he had lost Merlin several times over, but he remembered only too clearly how it felt to lose him for good and it wasn't something that he wanted to live through anymore.

He had been given a second chance that he hadn't believed was possible, and perhaps it wasn't the one he would have chosen had he been able to pick, but it was a chance nonetheless, and not one he wanted to let pass him by.

Maybe it would be hard, but why should that stop him? He and Merlin had faced far more difficult situations than the one they currently found themselves in. He tried not to consider the fact that this particular situation was far beyond his comfort zone and skill set -that only made him want to give up again- but the truth was that this was not something he was comfortable with. In all honesty, it would have been far better for Arthur to have lost his memory and Merlin to have handled the uncertainty that followed. Merlin would have taken every opportunity to speak to Arthur, he would have known exactly what to say and he'd have persisted regardless. He was much better at these sort of things.

But it wasn't Arthur who had lost the last six years of his life. It was Merlin. And Arthur was determined to try.

He picked up the letter, deciding that it could be his excuse for the visit, and then took several confident steps to the door. He paused for a moment, his fingers on the handle, trying to work out exactly what his first words should be, but no ideas were forthcoming. He shook his head; he would come up with something on the way to Merlin's chambers.

It was, therefore, with great surprise that he pulled open the door and saw the object of his contemplations standing there wide-eyed, his fist outstretched where he had been poised to knock.

Arthur repressed a growl of annoyance; it seemed that even a Merlin with memory loss was still in the habit of turning up uninvited at Arthur's door.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Okay, updates probably won't be quite as quick as this one from now on, but I just thought you might like to finally see Arthur and Merlin interacting once again! Thanks very much for the reviews from the last chapter! Please let me know what you think of this one.

Oh, and as an aside: has anyone else seen Les Miserables yet? Watched it this weekend and absolutely loved it. Tried singing conversations to my parents when I was at their house later on, but they weren't having any of it!

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14**

_Earlier that evening_

As it happened, Merlin didn't manage to sort through much of his old chambers. He had made a thorough search of the main room, looking through the many medicines and tinctures that Gaius seemed to keep. There seemed to be very little order in the cabinet and Merlin spent quite a long time sorting things into sections -or at least the things that he knew went together, which was far more than he had expected. He also made a scan of the bookshelf –looking for any magic-books, though he found none- and the pantry –looking for anything he could eat- before finally moving on to what he had assumed was his room and had therefore slept in last night.

He quite liked it really. It was small and somewhat ramshackle, but it did feel homely. There wasn't much in the way of belongings, but the things he did find felt like they should belong to him. There were a few different sets of clothes, all from his time in Ealdor –it seemed his wardrobe hadn't changed much in all the time he had been in Camelot- along with a few different medical books. He flicked through all of them eagerly, looking for any mention of magic, but he found nothing.

He was just going through a box of keepsakes –letters, maps, drawings, models- that he had found at the bottom of a chest, when he heard a knock on the door. At first he wondered if it was the Queen coming back to speak to him about his memories again, but when the knocking turned to a persistent tapping, he guessed again.

'How are all the horses?' Merlin asked as he pulled the door open.

'They're fine,' Peter nodded, pushing his way in and turning to face Merlin. 'What did Steven's lackey say?'

'I don't know. Gwaine started talking to me.'

'Who's Gwaine?'

'One of the knights; he knew me before.'

'So we still don't know what Steven's up to?' Peter asked, his disappointment evident.

'We don't know that he's up to anything,' Merlin pointed out, nodding to one of the chairs at the rickety table and tossing Peter some dried fruits from a wooden box on one of the sideboards. The boy sat down heavily, chewing the fruit and sighing at the same time, which nearly caused him to choke as he breathed in.

'Come on, Merlin; think about what he's been like since you arrived in Cyathia.'

'I know, but Tiden trusts him and James seems to.'

'So?'

'And I trust them. I mean, James has looked after me since he found me, and Tiden…' Merlin shook his head and smiled. '…he's trying to save Cyathia peacefully. And, well…he's put his trust in me; the least I can do is return the favour.'

He looked up at Peter to see the boy sighing again and giving a shrug.

'What's to say Steven and his group aren't working on their own? Maybe they're traitors.'

'You can't throw around accusations like that.'

'You can if you have proof.'

Merlin frowned at him. 'You're taking this very seriously.'

'As much as I love my job, looking after horses leaves you a lot of time to think. It just seems to fit.'

'But-'

'We should follow them!' he interrupted, looking at Merlin with a gleam in his eye.

'No, we shouldn't,' Merlin told him forcefully. 'That won't-' but he was stopped from finishing the sentence by a knock on the door. He called the visitor in and was surprised to see Benjamin standing there.

'Is everything alright?' he asked.

'Yes, it's just that you're expected in the servants dining hall,' the man explained. Merlin gave a groan as he realised he had forgotten. Tiden had told him to watch the other servants and find out anything he could about their employers' opinions.

'Sorry…' he began, standing up and hauling Peter up at the same time. '…I'm coming now.' Benjamin nodded, but stood there, evidently determined to make sure that Merlin followed through on that promise. He turned to Peter and gave him a look of warning, but the boy just grinned as he followed them both out.

'Have fun, manservant of two kings,' he called as he trotted off down the stairs in front of them. Merlin suppressed a sigh and desperately hoped Peter would listen to him.

Dinner with the servants wasn't as enlightening as Merlin had hoped. If he'd had more time to think about it, he would have thrown a few comments into conversation to elicit some helpful responses, but as it was, he hadn't prepared enough. He did try to listen to what the servants were saying, but many of them didn't seem too concerned by the talks, chatting more about their experience in Camelot so far. Perhaps after a few days, the novelty of Camelot would wear off and their thoughts would be more politically minded.

Not long into dinner, he was handed a message by a runner. He was not a little surprised to see that it was from Tiden, asking him to come to yet another meeting in his chambers after he had eaten. He didn't relish the thought of seeing Steven again –for undoubtedly he would be there-, not with Peter's suspicions still circling in his head, but perhaps James would be there too.

With that thought in mind, Merlin decided to finish his dinner early and head to James' chambers before meeting with Tiden. Apart from in the king's meeting, Merlin hadn't seen James at all and he missed the down the line approach that he took to things. After all the confusion Merlin had been through over the past two days, he could do with hearing James' thoughts.

He reached James' chambers quickly. Because of the time of day, the corridors were emptier than Merlin had seen them so far, and it felt good to be walking through the halls without a servant from Camelot nodding at him and calling his name as if they knew exactly who he was and expected him to be just as knowledgeable. He hadn't even reached the door when he heard the shouting coming from inside the room. He stopped in surprise; he had never heard James raise his voice, but he was undoubtedly shouting at the moment.

Feeling distinctly like it was none of his business, but at the same time drawn by curiosity, Merlin moved forward to hear what the voices were saying, but much to his annoyance, he found that he could only hear snatches of what was being said and none of it made any sense. What was clear, however, was who was in the room with him. Steven. All of Peter's words from earlier came flooding back to Merlin, rooting themselves even more deeply in his mind. What could Steven and James possibly be arguing about?

'…without understanding…!' James shouted as Merlin edged even further forward.

'…hasn't got any right to…with or without it…' was Steven's arrogant reply. Merlin heard a thud as if someone had been pushed hard against a wall. His eyes widened; what was going on?

'I will not…' he heard James say, before the words became indistinguishable. '…tell him and see…'

He couldn't hear anything of what Steven said in reply, but the tone of his voice sounded like a threat. Surely Steven had nothing that he could hold over James. But whatever Steven said seemed to bring an end to their exchange. Merlin backed up until he was hidden around the next corridor, just in time to see Steven walk out, his face smug, his walk relaxed as he disappeared towards Tiden's chambers.

Merlin waited several seconds and then went and knocked on James' door. The man opened it, his face curled into an angry mask that he quickly replaced with a more neutral one when he saw Merlin. Merlin had never seen him so out of sorts. James had ever been a level and controlled person, but at the moment, it was clear the man was struggling.

'I was just coming to-' he began hesitantly, but James waved his hand and shook his head.

'We have a meeting to go to,' he said sharply, indicating that Merlin should take the lead. With a frown, Merlin did so; it took all his restraint not to question James about what had just taken place.

If Tiden sensed the tension between his two advisors during their meeting, he didn't say anything, and both James and Steven accorded their King all the respect and deference that they usually did, although Merlin, having spent a lot of time around James, could see that the man struggled not to comment on the things that Steven said. The focus of the meeting, however, soon took Merlin's attention from the encounter he had heard and placed it heavily on himself and King Arthur. For that was what the meeting was about. Tiden wanted him to go and ask King Arthur for his job back that night, as soon as they had finished talking.

Merlin had blustered something about not expecting it so soon, but Tiden had waved it off, saying that after seeing Arthur's reaction to Merlin during the meting of the Kings and Queens, now seemed like the opportune time to play on the evident favour Camelot's king seemed to bestow on his former-servant. Tiden had said little else, just waited expectantly for Merlin to head out and do his duty.

Merlin was already to the door when he realised a problem. 'I don't know where the King's chambers are,' he admitted, but Steven had willingly and smugly explained the route to him, throwing in a fair amount of unhelpful and patronising comments as he did. Tiden, however, reprimanded him for them, much to Merlin's delight, and then solemnly reminded Merlin of the loyalty oath he had sworn.

It was at this point that James' stoic mask fell away. For a moment, as Merlin's eyes fell on him, the man seemed to bristle: his lips pursed together, his breathing quickened and his hands clenched into fists at his side. Steven and Tiden were unaware of the response, but Merlin saw it clearly and he felt a shiver echo through him. He had a feeling he knew exactly what the two advisors had been arguing about. Uncertainty rolled through him. Was there something he didn't know about the mark? But when he glanced at James again, the man's face was as unreadable as ever.

So now, Merlin found himself heading ever closer to King Arthur's door, his concerns about James temporarily put to one side, to be replaced by the much more pressing concern of going to visit King Arthur late at night to ask for his job back.

The guilt that seemed to rest with him constantly at the moment swelled up again, but he swallowed it down. This was a necessary deception. It would ensure Cyathia's safety, it would avoid a war with Camelot and it would mean that Merlin could finally have a life that he could call his own. Still, he couldn't forget what King Arthur reactions had been to him so far. Whatever their relationship had been, despite the falsehood that Merlin knew had been in it on his part, the King had been heavily invested in it. He had cared for Merlin a lot and this new deceit felt cruel.

Up ahead, the door to King Arthur's chambers loomed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a few seconds to compose his thoughts. With that done, and feeling marginally calmer, Merlin walked to the door and raised his fist to knock, just as it was pulled open from the other side.

* * *

Arthur was relieved that he didn't jump when he caught sight of Merlin. Merlin, on the other hand, did jump, his face going even paler as he saw Arthur. He slowly lowered his raised fist as if not wanting to make any sudden movements. The shock that had temporarily frozen Arthur began to wear off, but as he opened his mouth he found that he could think of nothing to say.

He wanted Merlin to start the conversation, just as he would have done in the past, but the man remained silent. He did, however, begin to move, and Arthur realised that he was going to bow. The thought of it was so terrible that it spurred his voice into action.

It wasn't that Merlin never bowed to him, he did on occasion, although it was often when they'd argued over something and he was trying to make Arthur feel bad by reverting to being just like every other servant, but still, it was something he'd done. But somehow, the thought of Merlin beginning this new version of their relationship with the clear social divide that was expected made Arthur feel like it would seal their fate of never again being the friends they had been before that tragic day. After all, their actual first meeting had been Merlin giving him unwanted advice and Arthur throwing his weight around - in the past, Merlin would have said that nothing had changed.

No, this second-first meeting couldn't be like the original, but neither could it be the expected first meeting of a servant with a king. It had to be different.

'What are you doing here?'

Inwardly he sighed. That wasn't exactly the warm welcome he had been aiming for.

'I...' Merlin stuttered, obviously having been equally unprepared to be thrown so quickly into a conversation. Although surely, Arthur reasoned, Merlin had at least had the walk up through the castle to come up with something. Still, the look of panic on the man's face suggested to Arthur that this version of Merlin wasn't quite as eloquent as the old one.

They both fell into an awkward silence, avoiding eye contact with impressive skill until Arthur decided that it was his responsibility to move the conversation forward. He was, after all, the King, Merlin's master –or at least he had been- and the only one out of the two of them who was in full possession of his memories.

'I was just coming to see you,' he began, straightening up slightly, hoping it would make him feel more in control of the situation.

It didn't.

'You were?' Merlin asked with a frown, '...Sire,' he added quickly, his eyes widening slightly in panic at having forgotten the title. Arthur bit back a sigh and tried to hide his disappointment at the formality.

'It's Arthur,' he said carefully.

'Your wife, I mean the Queen, Guinevere, Queen Guinevere,' he stuttered, his confusion so alien to Arthur that it made another stab of sadness tear through him. '...she said to call her by her first name as well, but...' he shifted uncomfortably, '...I don't really feel comfortable doing that. You're the King and Queen after all.'

At any other point in their relationship, Arthur would have taken those words as a sign of a maturing hierarchical awareness on Merlin's part, but now it only served to make the distance between them seem even more insurmountable.

'Nevertheless,' Arthur replied, 'you often called me Arthur.'

'And that didn't bother you?' Merlin frowned, as if trying to work something out.

'Well…' Arthur began, ready to say that yes it did, before he realised that it would have been a lie. He turned his head and frowned in the general direction of his room. He had never realised that before; it had genuinely never concerned him that Merlin chose to call him by his first name; it hadn't even crossed his mind as odd. He looked back at Merlin, a half smile forming on his face. 'No,' he said, 'it didn't bother me.'

'Oh.'

More awkward silence. Arthur tried to think of what to say, but his mind had gone frustratingly blank, as, it seemed, had Merlin's. The man stood in the doorway shuffling uncomfortably.

'Why _are_ you here?' Arthur asked, seizing upon the question as a way into something that resembled a conversation.

'Oh, erm…' he shook his head and furrowed his brow. 'I wanted to talk to you, Sire…Arthur. If now is a convenient time?'

'Of course,' Arthur nodded, stepping aside and gesturing that he should come in. Merlin looked a little surprised at the invitation, but came in and shut the door behind him. Arthur felt an irrational need not to put too much distance between the two of them, as if it would be symbolic of their current divide, so he waited for the man to take a few stumbling steps forward.

He tried to ignore the way Merlin glanced around the room as if seeing it all for the first time; it did nothing to ease Arthur's worries about the difficulties that lay ahead of them. But after several seconds of Merlin taking in his surroundings and showing no signs of stopping, Arthur decided to cut off his discovery session.

'Merlin?' he asked, his eyebrows raised. The man turned to him, looking somewhat embarrassed.

'Sorry, Sire-' Arthur suppressed a sigh at the title. '-I was hoping it would bring back some memories.' Arthur opened his mouth to ask if it had, swallowing down the hope that began to rise, but as if guessing his thoughts, Merlin shook his head apologetically.

'Perhaps in time…' Arthur began, but then cleared his throat. 'So, you were going to explain why you came to see me. Does King Tiden need anything?' He hid his discomfort at the thought of Merlin's allegiances being with another king. It felt a little too much like jealousy, and _that_ was definitely not something that Arthur wanted to be accused of.

'Actually,' Merlin began, swallowing heavily. 'I was going to ask a favour.'

Arthur frowned. Merlin's favours in the past had usually been to do with getting time off work; he had never really asked for anything else, except, on occasion, for Arthur to listen to him. Those favours, Arthur was ashamed to admit, were normally met with derision. Why had he not listened to Merlin more often?

'What favour would that be?' he pressed. Merlin shifted uncomfortably and Arthur was confused by his nervousness. What could he possible be going to ask?

'If it's not too much trouble, Sire-'

'It's Arthur.'

'If it's not too much trouble, Arthur,' he tried again, 'I was wondering if you might consider giving me my old job back.'

Arthur stared dumbfounded at the man in front of him. Out of all the things that Merlin could have said, Arthur would never have expected it to be that. Warmth flooded him, a joy that he had briefly experienced when he had realised that Merlin was alive, before other emotions had swarmed in. He studied Merlin's face, checking that the request was genuine, but nothing suggested otherwise.

He tried to suppress his emotions, not wanting to appear too affected by the favour, but he couldn't stop a short laugh of welcome disbelief from escaping his lips.

'You're staying in Camelot?' he asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

'Well,' Merlin began hurriedly, a panic seizing him; obviously he had not expected the question, 'I…I don't know yet…I just…' he shook his head and stepped forward. 'I just want to try and remember,' he said more confidently, his head held high, looking more and more recognisable to Arthur every second, 'and this seems like a good way to go about doing so. I understand if you don't want-'

'No, no,' Arthur said hurriedly. 'I think that would be a good idea.' He opened his mouth to make some comment about Merlin not having many of those, but decided against it; he doubted it would have the same effect as such comments had done in the past: namely to get Merlin to start trading insults with him. He wasn't convinced that the man in front of him would do that. Although, if he was the same Merlin from six years ago, then trading insults with a monarch should have been right up his street.

Somehow, though, this Merlin didn't strike Arthur as being the same stupid, but brave fool who had dared to call Arthur a prat, even when he knew he was the Prince! The difference concerned Arthur; this Merlin didn't seem to have as much fight in him, but then the boy from six years ago had been responding to Arthur's unfair behaviour; he wasn't that spoilt prince anymore.

'Thank you…Arthur.' He said the name slowly and it sounded more like a question than anything else, but at least he was trying.

'I'm glad that you want to find out about your past.'

'It seems the best thing to do.'

'I assume you've spoken to King Tiden?'

'Yes; he understands why I want to do this.'

'Good. So…' Arthur looked expectantly at him, not really knowing what to say.

'So…shall I fetch yours and the Queen's dinner?' Merlin suggested. Arthur felt confusion flood him for a moment, before realising that, yes, if Merlin was going to be his manservant again then he would actually have to do servant jobs.

'Yes,' he said with a nod, 'yes, that would be a good idea. Guinevere is eating with her brother tonight, but I haven't had my meal yet.' He turned round and looked at the table, checking it was clear. He stopped and rolled his eyes; why was he checking it was clear? That was the job of a servant, his servant. Merlin. He smiled to himself, hiding it from Merlin, but as he heard him heading out of the room, he became aware of the letter in his hand. 'Merlin,' he called, and he couldn't suppress the incredulous joy that he felt at being able to say friend's name and actually have said-friend turn in response, rather than being met with empty silence as had been the case every time he'd accidently called for his servant over the past few weeks.

'Yes…Arthur?'

'Before you do, I have a letter for you. It was why I was coming to see you.' He held out the parchment, the simple wax seal cracked and shining in the light of the room.

'Me?'

'Well, it was actually written to me, but it's from your mother.' Arthur expected a smile to break across Merlin's face at the news, but instead he seemed uncertain; he walked back to Arthur and cautiously took the offered letter.

'You don't mind me reading your letter?' he asked.

'Well, it's mostly about you anyway,' Arthur explained, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the scrutiny he was being put under by Merlin.

'Why would my mother write to you, Sire- Arthur,' he corrected forcefully.

It was a fair question, Arthur knew; he doubted that many servants' mothers wrote to their child's employer, but all the same, the fact that Merlin didn't know somehow annoyed him. Not that it was Merlin's fault of course, but Arthur didn't like being put on the spot when it came to explaining his complicated relationship with his servant.

'I know your mother quite well. We helped her protect Ealdor once and she's hidden us from our enemies in the past.'

'My mother did that?' Merlin asked with a disbelieving laugh. Arthur smiled.

'She's very brave. I think it's where you get it from.' Arthur's eyes widened as he realised what he had said. What was wrong with him? He didn't compliment Merlin -not unless it was life or death-, but the wide-eyed innocence that he was being presented with in this Merlin was throwing him off.

'Thank you, Sire,' Merlin frowned.

'You should read the letter,' Arthur said instead.

'I can read it later.'

'No, it's fine,' he assured him. 'Besides,' he added, realising something concerning his food, and thankful for the mental distraction, 'I actually think my other manservant might be bringing up dinner at any moment.'

'Oh.'

'I'll speak to him later,' Arthur said slowly, frowning as he realised he had completely overlooked the servant-who-wasn't-Merlin.

'I don't want anyone to lose their job because of me.'

'I'll make sure he's reassigned.' Merlin didn't seem entirely placated by that, but the pull of the letter seemed to occupy his thoughts. He read it through several times -either that or he was an incredibly slow reader- and his expression was hard to read as he did. Arthur considered the contents of the letter, wondering how he would feel if the positions were reversed.

_Dear King Arthur,_

_I can not thank you enough for sending me news that my son is alive and well. I have never known such relief as I did when I read the message. It is a joy that will live with me always._

_Gaius and I will return to Camelot as soon as we can. Unfortunately, Ealdor has been struck by an illness that has occupied all of Gaius' time in treating. Rest assured that he and I are fine and the worst seems to be over, but we wish to stay away until we are sure the disease has passed. We do not want to bring ill-health to Camelot._

_Your servant,_

_Hunith_

Arthur watched as Merlin finally folded the letter and handed it back. There was a frown on his face.

'Is something wrong?' Arthur asked.

'Something just…' Merlin shook his head and his gaze cleared. 'No, Sire.'

'It's-'

'Arthur,' Merlin interjected quickly and Arthur was pleased to see the slightest flash of irritation cross the man's face at the constant reprimand. Arthur weighed up his next words carefully, unsure of whether they were right at this early stage, but the habits of a lifetime were hard to change.

'Honestly, Merlin; if you can't remember that, I don't know how you're going to relearn everything you used to do.'

For a split second, Arthur thought he was going to get some sarcastic comment back from the man, but the brief look of annoyance was quickly replaced by something close to panic. Before Arthur could stop him, Merlin bowed.

'My apologies My Lord,' he said gently, 'I will try harder.'

Arthur felt dismay fill him, and not a small amount of guilt; how heartless he must sound to this Merlin who didn't remember anything about him.

'Merlin-' he began with a sigh, but was stopped when the door to his chambers opened and Guinevere walked in.

The look of pure joy that crossed her face when she saw Merlin in the chambers was enough to allay some of Arthur's self-reproaches, especially when she beamed at him with such pride on her face.

'Merlin!' she said, walking over to him and laying a hand on his arm.

'My Lady,' he bowed.

'It's-'

'Guinevere,' Merlin interrupted before he could be corrected again.

'Actually,' she said sheepishly, 'you only ever call me Gwen; if that's alright with you,' she added hesitantly.

'I think I can remember that,' Merlin said with an overly cheerful smile, which was followed by a glance back at Arthur. Arthur was delighted to realise that the comment had been a concealed jibe at him for his previous remark.

'Good, that's really good,' Guinevere smiled. She walked over to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his waist, one hand pressed against his chest. She looked up at him, pride shining in her eyes and he decided not to mention the fact that it was technically Merlin who had made the first move and not him.

'Merlin's going to be my manservant again,' he told her. If possible, she smiled even more widely.

'Really? You're staying then?' she asked, turning to Merlin. More panic, but Arthur answered for him.

'At least for now. After that…' he looked over at Merlin and gave him a nod, '…we shall see.'

Merlin nodded back at him, but seconds later he looked away and refused to meet Arthur's gaze for a long time.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews; they are greatly appreciated. To all UK readers; I hope you are wrapped up snug and warm against the snow. Being a teacher means that I managed to squeeze a snow day out of the weather today, which was lovely. And which, incidentally, means that I will be able to write a lot more of this story this evening!

Anyway, on with this chapter. This is one of my favourite chapters and I had such fun writing it! Bromance abounds! Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 15**

It had taken Merlin half an hour to realise that Arthur was hard work. Not long after that, it became apparent to him that his pretend attempt at being Tiden's manservant was nothing short of a holiday when compared to actually being Arthur's. The first day had started off fairly well. He had quietly come into the room and laid out breakfast for Arthur –who he was trying to remember to call by his first name- and Gwen –a nickname that he definitely still wasn't comfortable with- and made sure that all their plates, glasses and cutlery were laid out –a feat that was very hard to achieve in complete silence. That done, and happy with the result, Merlin had slowly and carefully opened the curtains so as not to alarm the royal couple out of their sleep.

Arthur had opened his eyes and seen the laid out breakfast table, frowned and then asked sharply.

'Where's Merlin?' In the quietness of the room, the tone made him jump and it took him several seconds to reply.

'I'm here…Arthur.' The King had turned round, a frown settling even more deeply into his features, and surveyed Merlin suspiciously.

'You laid out breakfast?'

'Yes.'

'On the table?'

Merlin added his own frown to their exchange and glanced over at the table. It seemed that the answer to the King's question was fairly obvious.

'Yes.'

'So quietly that you didn't wake us up?' Merlin raised his eyebrows. Was the King always this…slow just after he'd woken up? Beside him, the Queen stirred and took in the scene. In opposition to Arthur's reaction, she sat up and smiled over at Merlin.

'Good morning, Merlin. This looks wonderful.'

'You're welcome, My Lady,' he had replied, refusing to use anything other than her title when she was dressed in only her night clothes.

'Yes…' Arthur added, clearing his throat and seemingly gathering his thoughts. Merlin waited for him to speak again, but he just continued to look at Merlin as if he wasn't exactly sure what was happening.

'You gave me my job back yesterday, Sire,' he ventured, carefully.

'I know that,' he replied sharply.

'Oh. It's just…'

'Just what?'

'Nothing,' Merlin said. 'What would you like me to do today?' he continued quickly, when he still found himself being scrutinised.

What had followed was a list of chores that Merlin knew he had no hope of remembering in its entirety. He had laundry to collect, he had to help Arthur get dressed, clear up the breakfast, wash and launder any dirty clothes, clean the bedroom, polish Arthur's armour ready for an afternoon sparring session between kings and knights of the different kingdoms and attend another kings' and queens' meeting in the council rooms.

'Will that be all, Arthur?' Merlin had asked when the list was finished, desperately hoping it was. The king, who by now had made his way over to the table and was studying the breakfast suspiciously –making Merlin wonder if he'd done something wrong- turned round at the comment with a hopeful and amused look on his face, but after several seconds when Merlin politely waited for an answer, he simply nodded his head and turned back to the food. Merlin had wanted to ask what the problem was, but his nerve failed him; he should not question the reactions of a King. He gave a short bow to the Queen, who smiled sympathetically at him, and then to the King who nodded his acknowledgement, but didn't hold his gaze for more than a second.

After what Merlin felt was the failure of that first interaction, he had done everything in his power to put things right. He ran himself ragged, ensuring that every job was done to perfection; that anything Arthur needed was there and in order. In the kings and queens' meeting he was the picture of a perfect servant. He didn't move one muscle unless he was called forward by Arthur to top up his goblet, and at all times he kept his gaze fixed and alert. He didn't allow his boredom to show and he made no attempt to amuse himself by looking around the room at the other monarchs. The effort it took was exhausting and at the end he had fully expected Arthur to, if not compliment him, at least give him some sort of nod of recognition to show that he was doing well at taking over his old job. But the King only gave him a fleeting glance and a half-hearted smile before heading back up to his chambers.

So it was that by the time he finished helping Arthur dress for bed and made his way up to his chambers that night, Merlin felt utterly exhausted and completely dejected. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to impress Arthur. After all, this job was a ruse, a way of keeping an eye on the King in order to report back to Tiden. But Merlin still wanted to be convincing in his role. He didn't want King Arthur to become suspicious; if he did, it would put Tiden's plan, along with the whole of Cyathia, in jeopardy.

Peter storming in a few minutes after he got back also hadn't helped matters.

'Why is everyone saying that you're King Arthur's manservant again?' he asked, accusingly, sitting down on the stool opposite Merlin and helping himself to some of the bread that had been bought in the market earlier with the advance pay that the Queen had given.

'Good to see you too,' Merlin told him pointedly. Peter didn't seem to pick up on the hint.

'You said Tiden wanted you to be his manservant so that you could listen in on the talks.'

'He did, but then he changed his mind and…' Merlin shook his head and sighed.

'So what, now you're spying on King Arthur?' Peter frowned. 'Merlin, in Cyathia you said you were worried about the sort of person you'd been before. How is this any better?'

'I know.'

'Well then, why are you doing this?'

Merlin tried to explain the reasons behind Tiden's orders, how Merlin's information on the King would speed up the whole process of breaking up the talks, and, after a while, Peter seemed to understand.

'So you're coming back to Cyathia after all this is finished?' he asked, watching Merlin closely for a reply.

'That's what you're worried about?'

'Of course. I've just managed to find you, my friend,' he grinned. 'I'm not letting you sell yourself out to a magic-hating King, even if you did work for him before.'

'Thanks,' he laughed.

'So if you're doing your old job, have any of your old memories come back?'

'No, nothing,' he admitted, carrying on with his dinner now that Peter seemed less likely to yell at him. 'But whatever I'm doing, I think it's wrong.'

'What do you mean?'

He quickly filled Peter in on his day, describing the negative reactions he had received from Arthur.

'What more does he want?' the boy asked indignantly when Merlin had finished.

'I really don't know.'

'I can't believe you worked for him all this time if he's so…arrogant. Sounds like nothing's ever good enough for him.'

'Either that or I did a lot better when I worked for him before.'

'I thought you said you worked your hardest today.'

'I did,' Merlin sighed, 'but evidently it wasn't enough.'

* * *

'I don't understand why he's doing everything so…so perfectly,' Arthur growled in frustration, pacing at the bottom of his bed, while Guinevere watched him with something like amusement and something like scolding on her face.

'So you're annoyed because he's doing his job too well?' she asked. 'Arthur, all you did before was tell Merlin what a terrible servant he was.'

'Yes,' Arthur nodded, pointing a finger at Guinevere and nodding emphatically, 'and this only proves that he was never trying his best.'

'So are you cross because he never used to work hard enough before or because he's working too hard now?' she asked him, making it quite clear from her tone that she thought he was being childish. But he didn't care if he was. He had spent the whole of today trying not to yell at Merlin for doing everything that was asked of him to the highest standard. He put his head back and gave a half yell of annoyance, pacing further across the room.

'Arthur,' Guinevere said gently. 'Come and sit down.' Arthur considered ignoring her, but he had a feeling that she wasn't entirely on his side when it came to this minor-rage that he was going through and he didn't want to make her angry by tossing aside her completely reasonable request. Still, he wasn't above making it clear that he didn't want to sit down. He stormed over, expression fiery and sighing emphatically. 'What's the matter?' she asked when he slipped into the covers beside her. As she said it she pushed him down so that she could lie against his chest. He knew exactly what she was doing, trying to calm him, forcing him to pay her some attention in order to distract him from his thoughts.

It worked. His arm wrapped around her instinctively and he felt his breathing even out. She was clever, he could never deny that.

'It's just…' he pushed his head deeper into the pillow and stared at the drapes above the bed.

'…not the same?' she suggested. He sighed and nodded his head. Guinevere propped her head up one arm and leaned in to kiss him. He fixed his eyes on hers, allowing them to calm her. 'You knew it would be different.'

'I just didn't realise how different. I mean, look at this room,' he said incredulously, lifting his head to look around, before Guinevere gently pushed him back down. 'It's spotless,' he continued, 'completely tidy. And my clothes…they're _all_ washed and laundered. Literally, all of them. He even polished all my boots without me asking. He hates polishing boots. I know he does.'

'Arthur…'

'And did you see him in the meeting? He didn't move. It was like having a Merlin statue in the council room and believe me, I've never wanted a Merlin statue in the council room, or anywhere else for that matter.'

'Arthur,' Guinevere said more forcefully, and he realised that his voice had gradually got louder.

'Sorry,' he muttered, kissing her head.

'You know that all he's tried to do today is his best. He wanted to do well.'

'I know, but this new Merlin-'

'There isn't an old and new Merlin, Arthur. There's just Merlin.'

'But he's not Merlin,' Arthur sighed.

'I know he's not the same,' she agreed sadly. 'But…' she trailed off and Arthur could sense her hesitancy. Instantly, curiosity began crawling through him. He turned to her, his eyes narrowing.

'What is it?'

She sighed and looked at him closely, before eventually sitting up in bed, studying her hands for several seconds and then looking at him.

'Arthur, I don't want you to fall into false hope,' she told him carefully.

'Trust me,' he told her matter-of-factly, sitting up to join her, 'that won't be a problem after today's faultless-servant performance. What is it?' he prompted when she still remained silent.

'Today, you didn't tell him where anything was or how he should do things.' She stopped there, looking at him significantly.

'And that's important because…?'

'Well, how did he know where to go for everything?' she said softly.

'What do you-' but he stopped as he realised the implication of her words. He thought back over the day. She was right. When Merlin had helped him get dressed and undressed he had gone to exactly the right drawers and cupboards. He had known where things were kept in the room and how to go about cleaning and sorting things. He turned to her, unable to swallow down the small amount of hope that began to bubble. She looked at him anxiously and he tried to school his features.

'You're saying he remembered.'

'No,' she told him gently, 'but somewhere in his head the instincts and habits from his time in Camelot are still there.'

'But that means-'

'No, Arthur,' she began quickly, taking up his hands in hers and looking at him firmly. 'It doesn't necessarily mean anything.' He wanted to argue with her, but the truth in her words, and her sincerity in speaking them made him stop. 'You can't place your hope in that.' She gave him a small smile and then leaned up and kissed him. 'This _new_ Merlin, as you call him, may turn out to be the only Merlin we have. Let him be himself, even if it's not the version you want. Maybe one day you'll see some of the _old_ Merlin in him, but no-one can guarantee that.'

'That's not the same,' Arthur whispered, his chest feeling heavy again as he lay back down, pulling Guinevere with him.

'I know, but we both know the heart of who Merlin is. He's loyal, gentle, compassionate. Nothing can change that.'

Arthur nodded slowly, trying to take some comfort in Guinevere's last words of the evening, but it did little to ease the pain that was beginning to seep back into him.

It would never be the same, and somehow he had to find a way to live with that.

* * *

The following afternoon, after a similar day of wishing Merlin would do things wrong and not having that wish granted, Arthur watched in hidden irritation as the perfect-servant version of Merlin carefully placed a goblet down on the table. He did it so gently and with such focus that Arthur felt the childish urge to go and knock him just so he'd spill some. He resisted, however, and said nothing as Merlin finished that task and then pulled a duster from his pocket. Moving to the other side of the bed, he proceeded to dust the furniture there, despite the fact that he had done the same job yesterday and Arthur hadn't asked him to do it then, let alone today.

If possible, Merlin had tried even harder today, and it was driving Arthur mad. Not only had he managed to lay out breakfast without waking them up, he had also succeeded in laying out all of Arthur's armour on one of the cupboards without making a sound, in preparation for the morning training session.

The day had continued in much the same fashion, with Merlin doing all that was asked of him without complaint and with very little communication. It was like having the servant-who-wasn't-Merlin back working for him, and that did nothing to make Arthur feel any happier.

With a sigh, he returned his attention to the document in his hand; it held an agenda for the upcoming meeting of the day. After the initial problems that the kingdoms had had, Arthur had been worried that the talks would fail before they had even started, but the second meeting yesterday had proved more fruitful and he was beginning to hope that his and Merlin's shared vision was finally taking its first tentative steps. But thinking about that only served to remind him that the Merlin standing across the room from him had absolutely no idea that he was the reason these talks were taking place.

He picked up the goblet, his eyes still scanning the details, but as he took a sip and tasted what was in the cup, he spluttered in shock. Merlin had given him wine; and very strong wine at that! He looked incredulously over at the man, who had turned round at the sound of Arthur's cough. He looked down at the goblet in Arthur's hand in dismay, but it did nothing to curb Arthur's annoyance.

'This is wine!' he all but shouted. Merlin turned to him, his eyes looking around the room anxiously before he answered.

'You…you said you wanted a drink before the meeting,' he replied, frowning at Arthur as if he had gone slightly mad.

'Not wine!' Arthur blustered. 'I can't go into one of the most important meetings in Camelot's history having drunk a goblet of wine! What were you thinking?' Arthur knew he was being unreasonable, but his pent up frustration needed some sort of outlet and as this was the only thing that Merlin had come remotely close to doing wrong, Arthur felt himself seizing the opportunity to retaliate.

'I…' Merlin tried, but there was something other than perfect-servant-submission in his tone and posture now. His fists were clenched at his side -the duster being held much more firmly than was really required for dusting- and his lips were pressed tightly together. That only made Arthur more determined; if he could get into an argument with Merlin, it would feel familiar; it would be some way of reminding himself that the person in front of him really was the same man who had gone over the top of the cliff all those weeks ago.

'How stupid can you be? It's one simple task,' he pressed, staring hard at Merlin, inwardly pleading with him to argue back, but instead he nodded his head and murmured an apology. Within seconds he was working again. Arthur sighed in irritation and turned back to his documents, but a muttering from Merlin caught his attention. The man probably assumed that Arthur couldn't hear, but impeccable hearing was part of his battle training.

'Get your own drink next time.'

For a second, Arthur couldn't gather his thoughts enough to reply. The sarcasm in his tone, the way he had said it almost to himself… It seemed, just for a moment, that Arthur was really seeing Merlin; not new Merlin, not old Merlin, just Merlin.

'What did you say?' he asked slowly, his tone low.

'Nothing,' Merlin replied, but he didn't look like he was feeling guilty or sheepish. He didn't even look at Arthur. He was angry, very angry, and Arthur knew he only had to push him a little further.

'No, please,' he said in his most patronising tone, one that he knew had always set Merlin on edge in the past. He put his goblet down and took a step forward. 'Let's hear it Merlin. After all: I'm always eager to hear what my subjects have to say.'

For a moment, Merlin looked like he was going to back down, but then suddenly he snapped. He stood up straight and turned to face Arthur, his eyes hard and his jaw set.

'Fine,' he began in a dangerously quiet voice. 'If you want to know what I think then here it is. You,' and at this he pointed the duster in Arthur's direction, 'are the most ungrateful person I have ever met. I know this is my job now, I know that I'm paid to do this, but it wouldn't cost you anything to show the tinniest bit of gratitude.' He took several steps towards the bed and stood in what, for Merlin, was quite a menacing stance. Arthur had rarely seen him so angry; he absently wondered if all of Merlin's witty comments and disrespectful jibes in the past had been a means of avoiding ever getting this cross with Arthur. Before he could dwell on that, however, Merlin spoke -shouted- again. 'I have been working myself into the ground for the last two days. I have done everything you've asked and I've done it as well as I possibly can and nothing is ever good enough for you!'

At this he began pacing back and forth, sporadically looking between Arthur and the floor, but Arthur could sense that he wasn't finished yet and was strangely compelled to let him finish; it was the most animated that Arthur had seen Merlin since he'd returned to Camelot and, although he was slightly more hysterical than Merlin usually got, he was closer to his old self than anything Arthur had dared to hope for.

'And that wine that is so horrendous,' he continued, pointedly, 'took me two hours to find! I searched everywhere to get the best one because I thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd be happy with one chore that I'd completed. You are…' he turned and took a deep breath, hands clenched once again, before he looked back at Arthur. 'You are an arrogant…' he paused, evidently searching for the right word.

'Supercilious?' Arthur suggested nonchalantly, trying to contain his amusement and hope.

'Yes,' Merlin nodded emphatically, brandishing the duster at him once again. 'You are an arrogant, supercilious…' he paused again and Arthur all but held his breath. He knew the word that Merlin would have used at this point in the past. His own made-up word that made absolutely no sense, but which he had used in reference to Arthur on several occasions. He watched his oh-so-familiar servant search for the word he needed to express his current hatred for his employer, and Arthur silently willed him to say it; willed him to remember something of what their friendship had been and how it had been expressed. He pleaded with Merlin to say the one word that would convince him that somewhere, deep down, the memories were still there.

He looked at Merlin, saw the man's furious eyes and open his mouth.

'…clotpole!' he finished defiantly.

Arthur looked at him, his face breaking into a smile as he failed to hold back a joyful laugh.

* * *

Merlin stared incredulously at the King in front of him. He had to be mad; that was the only explanation. Here Merlin was, seething with anger after delivering a highly inappropriate –but highly truthful- rant to the King of Camelot, which, in all honesty, should have got him fired, and what was Arthur doing? Laughing. Laughing as if Merlin had just told him the most hilarious joke.

What was wrong with this man? This was the most accepting and friendly he had been towards Merlin and yet this was the rudest and most disrespectful Merlin had been towards him. And somehow it just made Merlin feel even madder than he already was. What right did Arthur have to laugh off all the things that Merlin had just said?

Distantly, he remembered that he was meant to be playing the part of the perfect servant in order to report back to Tiden, and he had a feeling that the Cyathian king would be less than impressed at the way he was currently behaving, but Merlin didn't care. Someone had to tell King Arthur exactly what he was like and Merlin felt that if anyone was going to do it, it might as well be him. But the man was _still_ laughing.

The urge to throw something at him suddenly became overwhelming to Merlin, but he somehow doubted that flinging the duster at him would really highlight the point Merlin was trying to make. Besides, the King was just as likely to throw something back at him and currently he had a wine goblet at his disposal. Merlin was relatively sure it would hurt if Arthur threw that at him…

Merlin froze at the thought.

He felt his eyes widen and he drew in a deep breath as something shifted in his mind. He saw himself in this room, Arthur standing by the bed, having just got out of it, while Merlin stood only a few paces back from where he currently was. The king shouted something at him, then picked up the goblet from his bedside chest and flung it in Merlin's direction.

With a gasp, Merlin focussed his attention back on the scene before him, trying to calm his breathing, which had suddenly quickened; his heart racing in his chest. He looked at Arthur; the King was saying something.

'…said that so many times in the past, it's-'

'You threw that at me,' Merlin interrupted, pointing at the goblet on the table before looking at Arthur. The king stopped, his mouth still open and his eyes narrowing. He looked down at the goblet.

'What the hell are you talking about? I haven't touched it.'

'You threw it at me,' Merlin repeated.

'Merlin, it's right there, I haven't-' he said, staring at Merlin as if he had gone completely mad.

'No, Arthur. I mean you've thrown it at me in the past. You were standing there and I was back here, and you threw that goblet at me.' Merlin watched as the King's eyes unfocussed slowly as he, too, remembered the event, and then fixed back on Merlin. He stood up from where he had been leaning against the table in his amusement, and took a few steps towards Merlin.

'Are you saying that you remember that?' he asked slowly. Merlin nodded, hardly daring to believe it himself. 'You remember me hitting you with this goblet?'

'You didn't hit me,' Merlin told him.

'What?'

'You didn't hit me. You missed.'

'I…'

'You missed. Then I made some comment and you threw a couple more things, but I moved out of the way and went through the side door.'

Merlin could see it all; could see what had happened, remembered that he had been moaning to Arthur about something, remembered making a sarcastic comment as he left the room.

He remembered.

'Merlin,' Arthur said quietly, and now he had moved round the bed so that he was standing right in front of Merlin. There was no trace of amusement on his face anymore, but there was hope, a deep seated and fearful hope, but hope nonetheless. '…are you saying that a memory has just come back to you?'

'I think so,' he nodded. Merlin saw the change come over the King's face. He gave a short laugh of astonishment, his mouth curling into a genuine and real smile that was directed entirely at Merlin. Wordlessly, the King reached a hand up and placed it on Merlin's shoulder.

For the first time in two days, Merlin felt like he had done something which was good enough for the King.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you for such a lovely response to the last chapter. It was very encouraging! Hope you like this one. Please let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 16**

Merlin glanced around the meeting room, his expression grim. In front of him Arthur, who had come to the meeting so ecstatic at the single memory that had returned to Merlin, now sat looking utterly dejected. He was trying to hide it, but even from where he stood, Merlin could see that the King was struggling. His shoulders were hunched slightly and under the table he was holding the Queen's hand tightly.

'…and I for one, will not allow my kingdom to be absorbed into Camelot's dictatorship!' King Chalere shouted. The man, who was quite imposing –at least six foot tall and muscled with it- was red with anger, an anger that, in Merlin's opinion, seemed to have come from nowhere. Around the rest of the meeting, the Kings, Queens and counsellors exuded similar emotions: anger, fear, confusion, uncertainty. The tension in the room had been evident from the moment the meeting had started and it had clearly taking Arthur by surprise.

Now he stood up, waiting for the murmuring and shuffling in the room to stop, but it took longer than it should have done; for whatever reason, the people in the room had lost some respect for Arthur.

Merlin glanced over at Tiden, James and Steven, and one look at Steven's face told Merlin everything he needed to know. The sudden change in the attitude of the gathered monarchs was no accident. At some point over the last day, Tiden had begun his plan for disrupting the talks. Merlin wasn't sure how it had happened. He knew that _he_ hadn't said anything to start causing a rift between the servants of different kingdoms which would then hopefully spread to their masters and mistresses. When he had briefly met with Tiden yesterday, the King had said that it would be a reckless thing for Merlin to do now that he was seen to be on King Arthur's side. Tiden had mentioned that he had other people –servants and soldiers- in place to carry out the same job, but Merlin had had no idea that he would act so quickly or that the plan would be so effective. He wondered if magic had been involved in the sudden shifts; perhaps people had unknowingly been influenced. Merlin didn't feel entirely comfortable with that.

He knew he ought to feel happy that the plan seemed to be working; that the talks were starting to disintegrate, but somehow, as he looked at the strain on Arthur's face, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the young King. Not that he deserved any pity from Merlin after the last two days of hell he had put Merlin through, but nonetheless he felt sympathetic.

He doubted he would feel quite so charitable towards the King had it not been for their encounter before the meeting when Merlin had remembered that one small event. But something in the way Arthur treated him had changed instantly in that moment. With the tensions of the meeting, Merlin hadn't had much time to think about it, but he was beginning to see what and where he had come from.

Gwaine had been right all along. Merlin really had been Arthur's friend. Yes, he was his servant too, of course, but somewhere along the way, Merlin got the impression that his role as servant had fallen into second place next to his role as friend. It was the only thing that really explained the King's behaviour towards him over the last two days. He had given Merlin his job back in the hope, no matter how small, that he would be getting back his friend, not his servant, and all Merlin had done was present him with a servant. It was the only explanation for why the King had been so…lenient and unconcerned when Merlin had stood there yelling at him. Because friends did that sort of thing, they told each other how it was, they disagreed, they talked about real things, not just a job. His rant earlier had been the first time that he had acted like a friend –albeit an angry one- rather than a servant. For the first time, he had been the person that Arthur had wanted him to be from the moment he realised that he was still alive.

The revelation was somewhat overwhelming to Merlin. He had believed Gwaine when the man said they were friends, but because he had not realised the depth of the connection, he hadn't really considered how a friendship like that –one between a King and his servant- would play out in reality. He hadn't given it any thought until now. But even with this new understanding, Merlin found that it didn't make things simpler for him when trying to figure out his relationship with the King. Before, he hadn't really wanted to understand it anyway –he was here to do a job, nothing else- but now, after seeing such an unexpected and intriguing reaction from the King to what should really have brought about an instant dismissal, Merlin found that his curiosity, against his better judgement, was getting the better of him.

Where was the line drawn? That was the main question that he found circling around his head. If he was a friend, but a servant also, then where did those two roles blur together and where did they remain separate? Evidently he had been allowed to question Arthur -to question the King of Camelot- and evidently he had said some quite discourteous things to the man in the past; the King had shown no shock when Merlin had started insulting him. He had even suggested a word! But surely somewhere along the line, there had to be a point where Merlin was a servant insulting a king, rather than a friend reprimanding a friend. How did that work? How did he know when to speak as a friend and when to stay silent as a servant? And how had Arthur treated him in public? Surely the people would have turned against a servant who acted as though he was Arthur's friend, but Merlin knew from his experiences over the past few days that people had liked him.

He didn't understand. He genuinely didn't understand how their relationship had worked and survived in the six years of Merlin being in Camelot. How had he, a spy in the castle of Camelot, managed to form such a deep bond with the man that he was working against? How had he created a friendship with a king while at the same time carrying out nothing more than a deception?

He looked at Arthur again, saw the man struggling to pull the meeting back to order and wondered what he could possibly have done to gain so much trust from this King that the man would be so grieved by his apparent death, so overcome by the revelation that he was still alive and so overjoyed at the tinniest recapturing of a relationship that, to all intents and purposes, no longer existed. The guilt that had been a frequent visitor to Merlin's heart of late, suddenly pushed down on him like a weight. And this time, try as he might, he couldn't shift it. He realised, now, that in carrying out Tiden's plan –a plan which he still believed in and wanted to be a part of- he would be forced to bear the burden of what he had done -and what he was going to do- to Arthur Pendragon for the rest of his life.

* * *

Arthur led Guinevere into their chambers and then let his kingly stance fall away. Merlin had not followed them up, and Arthur was thankful for that. One memory may have been regained, but if Merlin had been going to say anything at the moment, it would have had to have been words spoken with six years worth of wisdom and experience in Camelot for the message to have reached Arthur. As it was, he and Guinevere were left on their own.

Arthur stood in the middle of the room, his eyes closed and his shoulders slouched in what felt like defeat.

What had gone wrong?

He voiced the same question to Guinevere, who looked at him sadly and then moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly.

'I don't understand,' Arthur whispered. 'Yesterday they were all so…open-minded. They listened to each other; they spoke with respect and determination. And today…' he shook his head and moved over to the window, staring out over Camelot, while Guinevere followed and rested her head on his shoulder.

'I don't know what caused such a change,' she admitted. 'Perhaps the success of yesterday put people on edge.'

'I don't know what to do. How can I put things back on track?'

'We will find a way,' she reassured him, turning him round so that he was facing her. 'We will,' she nodded. 'We knew that these talks would be difficult. In all honesty, they have gone much more smoothly than we could have hoped up until today. It is just another barrier for us to overcome.'

Arthur looked at her, and smiled gently. He really didn't know what he would do without her. She balanced him out perfectly; she knew when to speak and what to say. He lent down and kissed her.

'We will do this together,' she told him firmly. 'We will call on the knights of the round table and talk about the best way to move forward.'

Arthur nodded, pushing himself away from the window with a new determination.

'I'll send for-' but she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head.

'We need some distance first,' she told him. 'Distance and objectivity. There is no point trying to sort things out until our heads are clear.'

Arthur wanted to argue. He wanted to sort things out now, get things set on the right path, but he knew that Guinevere's words were full of truth. He nodded and kissed the finger that was still pressed against his lips. She smiled at him.

'So, tell me. What is this good news that you mentioned before the meeting?'

Instantly, Arthur felt his emotions lift somewhat as the dying hope connected to the meeting was exchanged for the rapidly growing hope of Merlin's true return.

'What is it?' Gwen asked with a laugh, and Arthur realised he was smiling to himself.

'I think we might just get Merlin back,' he replied.

* * *

When Merlin went in to see Tiden after the meeting that afternoon, the King was in very good spirits. He spoke to Merlin only briefly, reminding him to listen carefully to what Arthur said regarding the peace treaty over the next few hours and days, identifying anything that could be used to disrupt them further. Merlin had nodded and assured the King that he would do his best.

'And Merlin,' Tiden added as Merlin made to leave. He turned back.

'My Lord?'

'Your visits to speak to me must stop. It will look suspicious. If you have anything to pass on, you must come to my chambers in secret or else seek out Steven or James. Our plan is well on its way to being a success, but suspicions from any party will slow it considerably.

'I'll remember that, Sire,' he nodded. As he left the room, he couldn't help but feel the smallest amount of relief at that development. Somehow, he didn't want to speak to Tiden every day to relay the things that Arthur had said.

From there, Merlin had considered going back up to Arthur's chambers to gauge his initial reaction, but the man had worn his heart on his sleeve during the meeting, and Merlin felt like he would be nothing more than a hindrance if he went up there now. Instead, he decided to make his way to the stables and speak to Peter. He had no doubt that the boy would be intrigued to know that a memory had returned. Part of him, though, felt reluctant to mention anything.

It was only when Merlin thought about telling Peter, that he realised he hadn't mentioned the regained memory to Tiden. He stopped in the middle of the corridor, hesitancy holding him where he was. Should he have told Tiden? He had a feeling that the man would want to know, and yet it had not even crossed Merlin's mind to mention it. Even now as he stood debating the matter, he found that he really didn't want Tiden to know. The King might question his loyalties again, magical oath or not. Did Merlin really want to be on the receiving end of the King's mistrust once more? The simple answer was 'no'. And besides, it was one small memory that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. No, he wouldn't mention it to Tiden. It would cause problems that didn't need to be there.

He continued his walk to the stables and quickly made his way to the building where all of Cyathia's horses were being kept. In a stall separate from all the others, Zephyr stood. He smiled as he saw her and walked over, calling her as he did. She responded instantly and Merlin whispered gentle words to here, stroking her mane and nose.

'Where's Peter then, girl? Have you seen him?' The beautiful creature looked at him with gentle eyes, almost like she wanted to talk. He laughed and went and pulled some fresh hay from the bale at the side of the stable. He held it up to her and she chewed it thoughtfully, nuzzling him for more when she had finished. Content that she was happy, Merlin left Zephyr to her musings and went back out of the stable in search of Peter. He knew that his friend was scheduled to be here this evening; he had mentioned it earlier when he had dropped in to see Merlin during his lunch break, but now he was strangely absent.

Walking down the row of stables, Merlin spotted two more of Cyathia's stable hands heading up the path with a huge bucket of oats between them. They nodded a greeting at Merlin and lowered the bucket.

'How are you, Merlin?' the first asked.

'I'm fine thank you. Just looking for Peter. He said he would be here this evening.'

'Oh, yeah; he swapped with me earlier today. He's going to do the early morning tomorrow.'

Merlin frowned at the information; he knew for a fact that Peter hated doing the early morning shift with the horses. Two more stable hands would arrive after breakfast to muck out the stables, but the early morning worker usually had to haul all the fresh hay and straw into the stalls in preparation.

'Really?' he asked. 'Did he say why?'

'Nope, just said he had something he needed to do. I wasn't going to argue. I can sleep-in tomorrow now.'

They smiled in farewell and then carried the bucket into the stables, but Merlin didn't pay them anymore attention. An uneasiness had settled in his chest the moment the stable hand had mentioned Peter's reasons. Merlin had no doubt that the boy was keeping an eye on Steven's men.

Merlin sighed in frustration and headed back out of the stables. His first instinct was to go and find Peter and drag him back to the inn to yell at him about staying out of things that could get him into trouble, but he had no idea where the boy could possibly have gone. Merlin had been with Steven all afternoon in the meeting, but he hadn't seen any of his men at all. He hadn't laid eyes on them in days. If Peter was following them, then Merlin would simply have to wait for him to return.

Which he did. The innkeeper had seen Merlin often enough with Peter to let him wait in the room and so Merlin took a large amount of satisfaction from seeing Peter jump in fright as he finally walked back into his rented quarters an hour or so later and saw someone else in there.

'Where have you been?'

'Did you break into my room?' Peter frowned at him.

'The innkeeper let me in. Where have you been?'

Peter rolled his eyes emphatically and lay down on the bed with a sigh, staring challengingly back at Merlin who sat on the chair opposite.

'Well, everybody else seems to be part of some secret plot so I thought I might as well try my hand at carrying out my own.'

Merlin closed his eyes and lent his head back against the wall.

'You've been following Steven's men.'

'You say it like it's the worst thing in the world I could be doing.'

'It's dangerous,' Merlin argued.

'They didn't have a clue I was there,' Peter told him flippantly, as if his worries were completely unfounded.

'Peter, if they see you-'

'They won't see me. And, besides, you're missing the important thing here.'

'Which is what?'

'They really are up to something.' He sat up as he said it and leaned into Merlin in such a conspiratorial way that Merlin couldn't help but be intrigued by what Peter had discovered. He tried to remind himself that Peter lacked nearly any magical ability, whilst Steven's men were something of an elite magical group, but it faded into background concern as he contemplated the idea that Steven really was up to no good. If Merlin and Peter could expose him then perhaps it would ensure that everything really did go smoothly and Cyathia would be free to continue in safety.

'Go on then, what did you find out?'

Peter grinned at the change and then shuffled forwards on the bed. 'I followed one of them today. I guessed that Steven would be at the meeting and that he'd probably want his lackeys to get some things done when none of the Kings or Queens were around. Less security, I suppose.'

'And what did he do?'

'It was really odd. He went down to the training grounds, and another one of Steven's group was there on the other side of the field, and then they both watched the sparring. The soldiers do it every afternoon when the meetings are on. A few of them from every kingdom get together and train.'

'So what did Steven's men do then?'

'Well…that's it really,' Peter said, shrugging and looking at Merlin.

'But you just said they were up to something.'

'Well why were they in the training grounds?' Peter asked defensively. 'Don't you think it's odd? None of them sword fight and yet they spent nearly three hours watching other people do it.'

Merlin stared at him, aware that he probably looked quite gormless with a half open mouth.

'That's it?'

'What do you mean?' Peter asked, eyed narrowed. 'It's strange.'

'It's not strange. It's just some men showing an interest in swordplay. That's perfectly normal.'

'For the whole afternoon?'

'Well what else have they got to do? Steven was in the meeting with Tiden; the soldiers were training, all the servants were getting ready for the evening meal. They're Steven's men. They do what he tells them. Obviously he told them to take the afternoon off.'

'But…' Peter began. Merlin sighed and chided himself for being drawn into Peter's conspiracy theory. No, Merlin may not like Steven, but Tiden trusted him and James -although the two didn't always see eye to eye- hadn't seemed to have had a problem with him since the argument that Merlin had overheard. He and Peter were just looking for trouble where there was none to be found.

'Please, Peter,' Merlin said gently. 'Don't follow them anymore. If they see you they won't be happy. And I really don't think they're doing anything.'

'What about the one that disappeared on Torrent on the first day? We still don't have an explanation for that?' Peter asked. He was all but glaring at Merlin.

'That doesn't mean there's a bad explanation.'

'Merlin-'

'Peter, I mean it. You're going to get hurt over nothing.'

'I can't believe you're not taking this seriously.'

'It's not that. It's just I think we've let our personal feelings towards Steven and his men blow things out of proportion. Listen,' he continued, waiting until Peter was looking at him, even it was with a glare. '…I've watched Steven for the past few days. I've seen him a lot and he is not against Tiden at all. He has the same goals as the King, I would bet my life on it. But if you get yourself noticed then Steven will make sure you're punished, and it will be for nothing.

Peter stared at him for several seconds, and for the first time since he had met the boy, he genuinely felt the age gap between them. He had never sensed it before, what with Peter being the age that Merlin remembered himself to be. But somehow, at that moment, Merlin felt those six years that actually stood between them; he felt the urge to protect the boy from his own impulsiveness. Peter, too, seemed to sense the shift. He firmly held Merlin's gaze for several seconds, but then dropped his eyes and sat back on the bed.

'Fine,' he said, not looking at Merlin. 'If you really don't think there's a problem then I'll leave it.'

'Thank you,' Merlin nodded.

Conversation was difficult after that. While Peter seemed to have accepted Merlin's advice, he was by no means happy about it, and in the end Merlin headed back to his chambers.

He ventured back up to Arthur's room later on to serve the King and Queen dinner and to help Arthur get ready for bed, although very little was said; they both seemed somewhat preoccupied about a meeting with some of the knights that they had just returned from.

When he went to bed that night, Merlin found that he couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Steven and Arthur and Peter kept on circling around his mind, with each person presenting their own difficulty. Steven in particular, occupied his thoughts. Despite what he had said to Peter, Merlin _did_ feel wary of Steven's men's actions, but at the same time, he wasn't willing to risk Peter's safety to expose them. He decided that he would keep more of a lookout for anything suspicious, although how he could do that when he was running around after Arthur all day, he didn't know.

Night soon turned to morning as those thoughts vied for his attention, until at last Merlin was forced to distract himself by reading one of the huge medicinal herb books that he found in the main living area. That sent him to sleep relatively quickly.

When he woke later that morning, he couldn't remember dreaming, but it quickly became apparent that his mind had been working hard as he slept. For as he ate and dressed that morning, he found his mind attempting to pull together several images that had been unearthed during the night and were now forming together like pieces of a jigsaw.

Even as he walked to the King's chambers, he was still straining to fit the last few pieces in, but as he quietly opened the door, the last piece seemed to slot into place. For the first time since returning to Camelot, stepping into the King's chambers felt familiar, like he really had done this before. Instinctively, he knew what to do; knew what he had done every morning; remembered countless mornings walking into Arthur's chambers. As to surrounding events and conversations of his morning wake up calls, he still drew a blank, but this bit was clear.

And so, knowing that this was not the part he was meant to be playing and knowing that he shouldn't revel in a past that was now out of his reach, but being unable to help himself, Merlin walked quietly to the other side of the bed, took hold of the curtains in both hands and flung them open wide. The sun burst into the chambers and, on the bed, the two monarchs reacted quite differently. Gwen rolled over, a smile on her face. She murmured a good morning and blearily looked at Merlin before closing her eyes again. Arthur, on the other hand, pulled the pillow up violently and forced it back over his head. Just as Merlin knew he would; just as Merlin _remembered_ he would.

'Merlin! How many times…' he muttered.

'Rise and shine, Sire,' Merlin said brightly, before standing and waiting. It was Gwen who looked at him first, her eyes shooting open and trying to focus on him. Arthur, on the other hand, froze for several seconds and then sat up abruptly in the bed.

'What did you say?' he asked, as Guinevere sat up behind him, a smile on her face as she looked at Merlin.

'What I always say in the morning, Arthur,' Merlin replied with a grin.

* * *

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	17. Chapter 17

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews. Apologies that I haven't managed a quicker update: crazy week! As such, I haven't checked this chapter as much as I usually do, but hopefully there won't be too many glaring errors! Anyway, onward. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Arthur found that the next few days brought out in him a contradiction of emotions. At the heart of the more positive ones was Merlin. Ever since the familiar wake up call a few days ago, Arthur had dared to hope, really hope, that maybe Merlin would fully regain his memories. It became apparent, very quickly, that fully regaining the memories would be, if it happened at all, a very long path, but Arthur watched the first few steps unfold before him.

For the first day or so, the recollections were few and far between, but they were there. Many of them didn't paint Arthur in a particularly good light. Several times Merlin had been in the middle of doing a job –jobs which he was still doing to a far greater quality than he ever had done before- when he would suddenly turn to Arthur and say things like: 'You put me in the stocks,' or, 'You tipped a bucket of water over me,' or –the one which he had all but shouted-, 'You fired me?'

'What? No, I didn't,' Arthur had argued, as he watched Merlin deftly dress him in his ceremonial robes ready for an audience with the royal guards of the various kingdoms.

'Yes you did. You fired me,' he stared at the ground, frowning as he tried to remember. '…while I was trying to tell you something important. And you just told me to get out.'

All at once, Arthur had remembered that moment. It had been such a long time ago. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore Merlin's accusing look, but when the servant didn't back down, Arthur sighed.

'Look…in my defence, you had just told me that someone was cheating in a tournament by using a shield that came alive with-'

'Snakes!' Merlin interrupted victoriously, pointing a finger at Arthur and almost making him jump.

'Yes,' Arthur nodded, 'and I had just accused the man of cheating and been proven wrong.'

'But I wasn't wrong,' Merlin argued. 'I was right. Wasn't I?' he frowned in confusion and Arthur could see the frustration in him at not being able to remember. 'Was I right?' he asked again.

'Yes,' Arthur nodded, after several seconds of debating whether he could get away with actually reinventing the past and telling Merlin he'd be wrong. 'You were right. And I un-fired you,' he added pointedly.

'Because I was right,' Merlin said with a smug smile.

All in all, the first few memories hadn't done anything to make Arthur look like a good employer –or a good person, come to that- but the memories that followed seemed to be more helpful when it came to rebuilding their friendship. By the end of the third day, Merlin remembered Gedref's challenge on the beach; remembered Arthur drinking the liquids from both goblets. He remembered bits of going with Arthur to rescue Elyan when Cendred had captured him. And there were other moments, moments that even Arthur had forgotten: mishaps on hunts, things that Arthur had said to him –not all good- or vice versa, dark moments when Arthur had lost hope, other times when the two of them had teased and taunted each other. The collection of memories were by no means a complete picture; Merlin explained that all he had were small glimpses; there were no continuous sequences of memories, no overriding understanding of how things fitted together or what had motivated him, but there was enough to give him a picture of the past.

And as the memories returned, Arthur began to see more and more glimpses of the Merlin he had known. The way he spoke to Arthur had shifted, even the way he walked and moved when he was with Guinevere and Arthur had changed. More and more, Arthur found himself slipping back into the banter that he and Merlin had always shared so easily. It wasn't like before -more like a shadow of what had been- but it was enough to break through the final tendrils of grief that had been wrapped around Arthur's chest.

But while Arthur became more and more hopeful over the memory returns, Merlin, after the first couple of days, seemed to draw into himself. The banter that he had begun to join in with seemed to fade away, leaving a Merlin who seemed to be struggling. Arthur wanted to ask why, but a lifetime of avoiding emotional confrontations, especially when it came to Merlin, made him reluctant, and he left the servant to his brooding, hoping it would pass.

But with the positive influence of Merlin's progress fading slightly, Arthur was forced to confront the disappointment of the talks. He and Guinevere had discussed at length with the knights what could be done to redirect the talks after the disastrous meeting, and it had been decided that more time needed to be given to individual kingdoms to voice their concerns. With that in mind, they had reorganised the schedule to give each king or queen the chance to voice their views with no interruptions. At first, Arthur had believed it was working; it had genuinely seemed to be. The kingdoms had begun to come around to each other's viewpoint, but as soon as Arthur had brought everyone back into the discussion, exactly the same problems as before had surfaced.

At first he had tried to stay optimistic, tried to convince himself that things would look better soon as long as he stayed positive and certain, but that pretence became harder and harder to keep up as the talks disintegrated around him. The Kings and Queens became more suspicious of each other with every day that passed and their fears turned into accusations and threats. Nothing Arthur said could placate them and nothing he did convinced them of his sincerity in fighting for peace.

With every meeting that passed, Arthur saw his hopes for Albion trickle into dust.

* * *

'Arthur,' Merlin ventured uncertainly one evening. Gwen was meeting with the other queens in an attempt to mend some bridges that Tiden had so effectively managed to burn, which left Merlin and Arthur in the King's chambers: Merlin polishing Arthur's chainmail for the third time in as many days and Arthur staring dejectedly at the table, picking at it with his fingers.

The day had been a hard one for Arthur. Another meeting had gone badly; the situation with the peace treaty was deteriorating much more rapidly than even Merlin would have expected.

Several times a day, Merlin tried to remind himself that this was what Cyathia needed, that these talks needed to fail in order to protect the legacy that Cyathia was trying to leave for its children, but every time he looked at Arthur he struggled to remember that. The King was crushed by the turn the talks had taken, that much was obvious, and Merlin felt his own guilt increase every time he saw it afresh on the man's face.

It wasn't that he was disrupting the talks personally, Tiden had made sure that his other servants and soldiers took care of that, but Merlin was feeding information on Arthur's reactions to the Cyathian monarch. It seemed Tiden's assumption that Merlin would be let into the King's confidences due to their history had been spot on. Arthur and Gwen frequently discussed things in front of Merlin, they did nothing to try and hide their worries, fears or strategies from him. On occasion, Arthur had even looked at Merlin as if he was expecting him to give some advice.

And everything that Merlin heard he passed onto Tiden, either through Steven or James. At first, it hadn't been too difficult to fill Tiden in on Arthur's next moves, but as time passed and his memories returned, his task to pass on information felt more and more like treachery; more and more like the wrong thing to be doing. And yet he couldn't stop; he had sworn his loyalty to Tiden, he knew what his cause was; he had to continue.

But loyalty was fast becoming something that Merlin couldn't define; not when it came to himself. With each day that passed he was remembering more and more. It wasn't that he had anywhere near all his memories, but he had enough to begin to understand himself and Arthur. At first he had found it exhilarating to actually be remembering something of his past. His initial worries of what it might reveal about himself had disappeared quite quickly when nothing that came back to him suggested the maliciousness of character that he had so feared. But the exhilaration had worn off very quickly as he began to remember more. He remembered saving Arthur's life on more than one occasion -though the use of magic meant that Arthur was oblivious to those moments. He remembered fighting for Arthur, helping Arthur, encouraging Arthur. He remembered Arthur asking for his opinion, even -at times- seeming to rely on it.

And now, as he had sat polishing chainmail and watching Arthur brood over the events of the day, another memory had returned to him; one that was so full of unspoken desperation, sincerity and loyalty, that Merlin found himself needing to ask Arthur what had happened to bring the event about. The King turned at Merlin's voice.

'What is it?' he asked, glancing over to where Merlin sat on the floor.

'I remembered something else.'

'Oh yes?' Arthur asked, and though his interest was clear, Merlin's announcement of a memory return hadn't been met with the usual hope that the King had shown on previous occasions. Merlin put down the polishing cloth and stood up, tentatively making his way over to a chair. At Arthur's nod, he sat down.

He looked down at his hands for several seconds, wondering how best to pose the questions he wanted to ask. He had a feeling that whatever their answers were, they would be a turning point that he couldn't come back from.

'Merlin?' Arthur pressed.

'I remember…I remember coming into your room without knocking-'

'That doesn't narrow it down.'

Merlin gave a small smile before he continued. 'I came in and you were sitting…' he laughed. '…actually, you were sitting exactly where you are now and your arm was bandaged. We were talking about something, I don't know what. I think I called you a prat,' he frowned.

'It wouldn't surprise me,' Arthur murmured.

'And then I said something to you…' He stopped again, feeling uncertain.

'Merlin,' Arthur said with a half hearted sigh, 'if you want to ask about something that happened, you have to tell me what it is that you remember.'

'I know,' he nodded. He took another breath and sat forward, his hands placed on the table and his eyes raised towards Arthur. 'I told you that I was happy to be your servant 'til the day I died,' he finished simply. 'And I meant it,' he added quietly. He looked at Arthur and saw him smile, just the tinniest bit, as he stared at the table, obviously remembering the event. 'What had happened for me to tell you that?' Merlin asked.

'I don't know,' Arthur admitted after several seconds. 'I had just recovered from what should have been a fatal wound. Gaius had found something, a tincture I think, and it worked. That evening you came and spoke to me; you told me you had to talk to me and I said-'

'You said that you decided when we talk,' Merlin interrupted, fragments of the conversation returning to him.

'Yes, and you carried on talking anyway.' He shook his head and looked up at Merlin. 'You said something about me being a great king, but that I had to learn to listen.' He rolled of his eyes. 'I thought you were trying to leave your job, but you told me you weren't, and then you said…' he gestured towards Merlin, '…then you said about being my servant until you died.'

There was silence for several seconds.

'You remember it well,' Merlin said slowly, but it was a question of sorts, one that he was keen to understand the answer to. Arthur looked at him and nodded.

'You hadn't been my servant that long when you said it, not really; it can't have been more than a year,' Arthur continued. 'I don't know why you said it, or what you were thinking at the time, but…' he smiled to himself and shook his head, '…but I believed you,' he shrugged.

'Why?'

'Because…' He shook his head again. 'I don't know. I don't know why I believe half the crazy things you say, but I do.' He stared at the wall as if he was reminiscing over all those 'crazy' things, but soon he stirred himself and sat up on the chair. 'I don't suppose you remember why you said it?'

'Sorry,' Merlin told him, shaking his head. He moved off the chair and went back to his polishing, leaving Arthur to return to his brooding.

But as he sat there, making sure that Arthur's chainmail shone ready for any meetings tomorrow, Merlin found his own thoughts turning inwards as he considered the conversation he had just had.

Something had occurred to him. If he had allowed himself to think about it before now, he probably would have realised sooner, but he had been fighting against this particular pattern of thought for fear of the preconceptions it would destroy. Now though, with Arthur having so openly answered his question, Merlin found his thoughts irrevocably drawn to the only possible conclusion he could draw about his past in Camelot.

He had never been against Arthur.

And if he had never been against Arthur, then the course he was currently on went against everything he had been before he had lost his memories. He knew that now. Even if he still didn't understand the apparent loyalty he had given to Arthur, even if he didn't understand how he could follow a king who hated magic, possibly about magic here he understood that he had stood by Arthur through everything and had intended to stand by him for as long as he possibly could.

And the problem was that the more time he spent with Arthur now, the more he realised that part him still wanted to stand by Arthur; still wanted to be his servant until the day he died.

* * *

Sleep eluded Merlin again that night. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and tried to piece together the two different lives that were competing for his commitment. On one hand he had a kingdom full of magic, where sorcerers were able to use their gifts for good and in peace. A whole land where people weren't persecuted for their unique and wonderful abilities; where Merlin had felt at home; where he had finally begun to feel like he belonged.

And on the other hand there was Camelot; a kingdom that was sworn to fight against magic; a kingdom that would kill Merlin if his magic was revealed; and yet in Camelot was a kingdom –and a king- that Merlin knew he had devoted himself to in his previous life. He didn't remember why, but he knew that it was with Camelot that he had allied himself. Knowing that and actually feeling it were two different things, but more and more, Merlin was beginning to wonder if perhaps loyalty with Camelot should be where his future lay. Everything he had remembered pointed to the fact that Arthur –while being a pain half the time- had a pure heart and could, Merlin believed, be someone who brought about lasting and promising change.

It was thoughts like that which had kept him up nearly the entire night, but by the morning he had a plan of sorts. He dressed even earlier than usual and quietly made his way down towards the knights' living quarters. A place he only knew of because Gwaine had continually given him directions –and encouraged him to come and talk- whenever they passed each other in corridors. Once there, he made his way to the room that he was sure Gwaine had said was his and lightly knocked.

He had expected to have to knock several times to wake the man up, but the door flung open seconds later to reveal a fully dressed and surprisingly wide awake knight.

'Merlin!' he said in surprise, but he grinned widely. 'You're here early.'

'I'm really sorry for-'

'Don't worry about it. I'm taking out a patrol today anyway. Just heading there now.'

'Oh,' Merlin said, hiding his disappointment; he shouldn't have assumed that the man would be free, but he had always seemed so laid back about his duties that Merlin had half expected him to pass early shifts up for an extra few hours of sleep.

'You alright?'

'Yes, I was just going to take you up on your offer to fill me in on a few things.' Gwaine smiled widely, before clapping Merlin on the back.

'An odd time of the morning to ask, but count me in. I'll be back from patrol late afternoon. Your quarters?' he asked. Merlin nodded and smiled.

'That would be good.'

'Great. I've got plenty to tell you. You'll have loads to hold over Arthur's head by the time I've finished.' With that he gave Merlin a grin and then disappeared off down the corridor.

Merlin made his way up to Arthur's and Gwen's chambers after that and delivered his familiar wake up call, but Arthur made no attempt to reprimand him and it became apparent very quickly that the monarch had had just as little sleep as Merlin, although probably for very different reasons. The talks were playing heavily on his mind. It was obvious from his silent brooding and from the frequent reassurances that Gwen gave him. But Merlin quickly realised that it was more than being disappointed in the meetings; Arthur was fearful of going in to the one today. He seemed less sure of himself, less determined to make things right. And Merlin found that everything in him wanted to offer some words of comfort.

Yet he couldn't. He knew these talks would fail, he knew they had to, but he wished they could do it more quickly. The whole process was being dragged out; it was wearing Arthur down and building resentment between the different kingdoms that were gathered. Looking at Arthur, Merlin decided there and then that he would talk to Tiden personally later on and ask him to complete the plan more quickly. He had no idea how the monarch would react; for one thing, Merlin was meant to be meeting with Steven later on to feedback on Arthur's reaction, but he didn't care. Tiden had said that this would be a peaceful and low-cost means of protecting Cyathia, but at the moment the emotional and social costs were climbing and Merlin couldn't bear to watch it.

Later that morning, Merlin once again found himself in a meeting, standing just behind Arthur's chair, watching the young King become more and more demoralised. The talks lay in tatters. Gwynedd, who up until now had been on Arthur's side, began to voice their concerns, while King Chalere seemed to revel in the anger and bitterness that was being created. He shouted down the other leaders, causing them to retaliate with equal ferocity. Queen Iola, who, throughout the meetings, had remained relatively calm and respectful –despite her disapproval- now gave into her own anger and frustration, which destroyed the last vestiges of calm.

And try as he might, Arthur could not talk them round or talk them down. Merlin hated watching it, hated seeing the man struggling in his own council rooms. His face was white, his eyes giving way to the fury that was in him. All around, the leaders, their spouses and their advisors were locked in arguments; no-one's voice could be heard over another's and the room got louder and louder.

Merlin saw Gwen reach over to Arthur and whisper something in his ear. She looked close to tears, though she held herself regally. Beside her, Arthur gave a resigned nod and slowly stood up. That action alone should have brought silence into the room, but it made no difference whatsoever. Merlin willed the people in the room to be quiet, willed them to listen, but they continued to talk.

'That is enough!' Arthur's voice rang out loudly in the room, echoing off the walls and creating further reprimands. The strain in his tone was evident and Merlin had no doubt that defeat was written across his face, but it worked. The room fell silent and everyone turned to face him. 'We are loosing sight of what is important for our kingdoms and for our futures. All of you came here because, in some small measure, you believed that this unity could be achieved. You believed it had a place in this land, in your people's legacies, and I know-'

'You know?' The shout was loud and full of disdain. The shock that someone had interrupted Arthur was evident in the faces of all gathered, but Merlin felt his own shock increase as he realised that it had been Tiden. He looked over at the man, a frown of confusion on his face. What was he doing? Over the course of the talks, Tiden had said very little, especially when compared to some of the other rulers, but he had always stayed relatively neutral. Even when the talks were breaking down, Tiden's contributions in meetings were always very measured and controlled. But now a new fervour seemed to be in him and Merlin felt his skin go cold. 'What do you know?' the man sneered, standing up and fixing Arthur with a gaze.

'I will not-' Arthur began, shock having kept him silent for a few seconds.

'What can you possibly know of creating unity and peace across a land? Look around you. We have been rulers for longer than you have been alive and yet you pretend to have some understanding into a unification that is evidently unachievable.'

Merlin felt shock fill him at the words. What was Tiden doing? The disrespect in everything that he said was almost unbelievable in its intensity. Merlin looked at those gathered, expecting to see equal disbelief, but to his shock, some were nodding their agreement. Arthur, too, was looking around as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Merlin saw his stance tighten.

'I may be a young king,' Arthur replied, his voice calm, but Merlin could sense that he was at the edge of his control, 'but that does not mean that my vision in naïve.'

'These talks show that it is,' Tiden answered swiftly. 'You have gathered together six kingdoms, seven including your own, and you can not get them to agree on anything.'

'How do _you_ expect to unite the entire land, if you can't manage it with the few of us who are gathered here?' Chalere added, though his tone was marginally more respectful.

Merlin felt his heart thud painfully in his chest as he watched all the focus shift from Tiden onto Arthur; it was if some outside force was controlling each and every person, until every intense gaze was on Arthur. Merlin realised what Tiden was doing, realised how clever the man was.

'I believe that peace is the dream at the heart of all leaders,' Arthur began, but his voice held the slightest bit of defensiveness; it wasn't as sure as it usually was; the confidence that had marked it out before was fading. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Tiden sit back, and he felt his anger surge. This wasn't about breaking the talks anymore; this was about destroying Arthur's reputation with a few carefully chosen words and a foundation of magically induced mistrust.

'Our kingdoms already have peace,' Iola said; she was hesitant, but Merlin could see her reservations, along with those of the others, falling away.

'And what you're proposing is more likely to lead to war than peace,' Brayden added forcefully.

'The whole purpose of these talks is to avoid war,' Arthur said, a twinge of desperation in his tone.

'How do you expect to join the kingdoms of Albion –kingdoms that are infinitely different in their beliefs, traditions and cultures- in anything other than an uneasy alliance?'

'You risk destroying what truces and understandings are already in place.'

'That won't-' Arthur tried, but the voices around him were getting louder again. And for the first time in days all the monarchs were united in their purpose. Against Arthur.

Merlin watched in horror as Arthur's eloquent arguments were overridden and as the monarchs joined together in proclaiming the talks a failure. Merlin knew that this had been Tiden's aim –his own aim- all along; he knew that Cyathia was now safe, but the way Tiden had done it filled him with revulsion. Merlin looked at Arthur, still standing up under the barrage of questions and accusations, but suddenly looking so much smaller than he had done before.

This was cruel and unnecessary. The talks hadn't needed Arthur's reputation to be called into question in order to fail; they had been going to do that anyway.

Before he realised what he was doing, Merlin had taken a step forward. The majority of the room didn't even notice, and most of those who did didn't care, but Tiden caught sight of the movement. Merlin felt the ruler's eye on him like a physical weight. He moved back again, but it took all his resolve not to move closer to Arthur as a small show of support. All his instincts were shouting at him to do it, but he kept himself rooted to the spot, desperately waiting for the meeting to be over.

Eventually, an uneasy silence fell over the group; everyone had said what they had wanted to; everyone had expressed the reservations that had been bubbling away for days due to Tiden's followers amongst the servants and soldiers. And everyone had turned against Arthur's vision. With wariness, the monarchs finally gave their attention back to Arthur. He still stood, but he seemed tired.

Merlin waited for him to say something, but before he did, he called for his cup to be filled. Quickly, Merlin moved forward, aware of the pressing weight of silence. As he got closer to Arthur, he saw the defeat in the way he held himself, in the expression on his face. Carefully, Merlin poured the drink, but as he stepped back he couldn't help but catch Arthur's eye, wanting to give some sort of support; something that showed how sorry he was for what had been done to the young King.

It was only the smallest of glances that was exchanged between the two of them, but even in that short amount of time, Merlin saw a change pass over Arthur's face. He looked at Merlin and suddenly his jaw clenched, his chin lifted slightly, and his eyes blazed with a sudden fire. As Merlin moved back, Arthur turned to address those gathered.

'My friends,' and Merlin couldn't imagine how much strength it took to address the others in the room in such a way. 'We stand on the precipice of the future. I want that future to include all of us; together, but I understand that you are worried, concerned and fearful. I understand your hesitation. It is wise for us to take time to consider such monumental steps on our paths, and perhaps now is not the time for Albion to one united kingdom, perhaps that is a future that stretches beyond us. But whether now or in hundreds of years to come, I still believe in it.'

Merlin saw the other leaders shuffle uncomfortably; they had evidently hoped for Arthur to disband the talks, and yet still he persisted. Merlin didn't understand where this new resolve had come from. What was it that made him so desperate to see this thing through?

'So here is what I propose…here is what I _ask._ We will all take two days. There will be no councils, no meetings. Use the days to consider the future you see and then we will come back for the final gathering of this unity treaty. If you decide against it, then we will part ways has friends. If you decide that it is the path you wish to take, them arrangements will be made for future communions. We will look ahead to a time when we are not only friends, but allies as well.'

He swallowed, his posture shrinking again as if he had given his all and could give no more.

'That is all I ask,' he finished. Without another word, he held out a hand to Gwen and glanced back at Merlin. Seconds later they were leaving the room and heading back to the royal chambers, leaving Leon to dismiss the other guests.

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	18. Chapter 18

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Hello all and thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. This chapter is sort of the start of the big finish, although there are still plenty of chapters left: at least another six or seven. But even so, things are moving forward again. Let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 18**

Arthur wanted to run to his chambers; he wanted to run and hide and lock himself away from the rest of the world…and that had never happened to him before. He could sense his pace quickening as they got nearer to the room and only Guinevere's steady hand in his stopped him from running off like a child. He kept his mask in place as they walked through the corridors, but the moment Merlin shut the door behind them as they walked into the bedroom, Arthur felt the mask crumble to dust.

He stopped in the middle of the room and allowed all the emotions that he had suppressed to rise to the surface: all the humiliation and desperation and anger and failure. Each emotion rose and bubbled and Arthur felt his head spinning with all of them. What had he done to lose their respect? How could they even contemplate speaking to him as they had done? He thought about their remarks; the cutting accusations they had made; words which made him feel so small and weak and useless and stupid. In all the time he had been king, he had never felt as helpless in his role as he had done earlier. Even when Morgana had taken over Camelot and he had doubted that he should even be king, he hadn't felt as awful as he had done in that meeting: because their comments had been thrown at him when he should have been in a position of authority and respect; they had managed to make him question himself even as he sat in his own council rooms. They had treated him like a fool and their words weighed heavily upon him even now.

He was angry; furious. He could feel the rage flowing through his veins like a fire. He felt hot and restless; his muscles were coiled and he desperately wanted to strike out at something.

'Arthur,' Guinevere tried, but he could tell that even she was unsure of how to bring him round this time. That made him feel even more out of control. If Guinevere's gentleness couldn't calm him then he doubted anything could. Perhaps if Merlin had been his old self then between the two of them they could have said what was needed. But Merlin wasn't that Merlin yet and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see the man standing nervously, his expression grim and sad.

'Why did Tiden do that?' Arthur asked quietly, surprised that those were the first words to come out of his mouth. When Merlin didn't answer, Arthur felt more of his rage pull free. 'Why did he do it?' he repeated more loudly, stepping towards Merlin.

'Arthur,' Guinevere said, walking to stand beside him. 'Merlin can't tell you anything.' But Arthur didn't care, because he needed Merlin to be there at that moment; he needed something from him: some words of encouragement or wisdom or belief. But he said nothing, just stood there, barely holding Arthur's gaze; his face uncertain.

'You were in Cyathia for weeks,' Arthur told him fiercely. 'So tell me what I did to turn Tiden against me like that. He started everything in there.'

'I don't know,' Merlin blustered, shaking his head and moving back as Arthur approached.

'Then think! You were his manservant; you must have attended Cyathia's meetings on the run up to their departure.'

'I didn't.'

'You must have!'

'Well I didn't!' Merlin replied; his own voice raised in a shout, now. Arthur took a deep breath. Part of him wanted to yell at Merlin some more –in the past he'd done it, knowing that the man would do or say what was needed- but he knew that if he shouted at him, he wouldn't respond in that way, and it would only serve to widen the distance between them; something that would have cut Arthur like a knife after all the progress that had been made in the last few days.

'Fine,' he breathed. 'Then tell me what I can do to change his mind.'

The desperation on Merlin's face was painful to watch. The man stood there, shaking his head, his mouth opening and closing several times as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he looked down.

'I don't know.'

'Merlin!' Arthur growled. But before he could say anymore, Guinevere stepped in front of him; her eyes held his in a glare and she pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him back several steps from where he had been in front of Merlin.

'Stop it,' she told him, her voice a harsh whisper. 'This isn't fair on him, Arthur; he can't help what he doesn't know.' She was right of course, but even so, it wasn't what Arthur wanted to hear. He turned away from her and moved towards the table, slamming his sword onto it so hard that he dented the wood with the hilt. 'Arthur,' Guinevere tried again.

'Arthur.' At Merlin's gentle tone, Arthur turned and looked at him. Hesitantly the man moved forward, some sort of resolve on his face. 'I'm sorry that the talks have failed,' he began, 'but you did all that you could and your response to the other kings and queens in the meeting showed true strength.'

It was by no means as eloquent as Merlin's speeches usually were, but the sentiment behind it, though restrained, was familiar. Beside him, Guinevere was smiling gratefully at Merlin, but Arthur couldn't allow himself to be distracted.

'The talks haven't failed,' he told them, moving away from the table and pulling out several documents from the cabinet that had information on the represented kingdoms. He felt Guinevere's hand on his shoulder and allowed her to turn him round.

'I know how important this was,' she gave him a sad smile, 'but I don't think Albion is ready yet.'

'Yes it is,' he argued. 'This can be done.'

'Arthur, they don't trust each other and they don't trust us. There will be no strength in any union formed now.'

'I can't give up on them,' he told her, hearing the desperation in his voice, seeing the sympathy in her face. Slowly, she took the documents from his hands and put them back in the cabinet, before moving so that she was in front of him once more.

'You heard what they said; what their views are.' She placed one hand on his arm and reached up the other to rest in his hair, her fingers gently curling through it. Arthur swallowed, his head shaking, but he found that he couldn't speak. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, wanting to just disappear into her touch and forget the utter failure that surrounded him.

'I can't,' he whispered.

'Why are they so important?' Arthur looked up at the question. Merlin was looking at him, a frown on his face; a desperation to understand. 'Why is it so important to you that they succeed?'

Arthur stared at him and felt sadness rise up in his throat. He moved away from Guinevere and heard a bitter laugh escape from his throat.

'You tell me.'

Merlin's frowned deepened at the comment. He opened his mouth to respond, but then a sudden understanding came onto his face. He paled, opening and closing his mouth several times before eventually stepping forward and warily looking at Arthur.

'Did…' he stopped, but then shifted his stance so that he was standing taller. 'Did I have something to do with them?'

Arthur watched Merlin, feeling his own confusion rise. The man exuded nervousness; everything in him seemed to want to run; like he was desperately pleading with Arthur to prove him wrong. He was going to wave Merlin's question off, but suddenly he wanted the man to understand; he wanted Merlin to know that he had been a supporter of all that Arthur was trying to achieve. He wanted him to show that same support now. He looked over at Guinevere and saw her nod in encouragement before she moved over to her dressing table and sat down at it.

'The night before your accident,' Arthur began, 'I told you that I wanted to unite Albion. It was something that had been on my mind for a while.' He looked up to see Merlin absorbing the words fearfully. 'You told me that I could do it and then a few hours later I thought you were dead.'

'So you…' he frowned, taking another step and pointing between the two of them, '…we decided on the talks. That's why they're happening?'

'No,' Arthur said, beginning to regret starting the conversation. Behind Merlin, Guinevere nodded him on. 'The way you died…or at least the way we thought you'd died…it was so pointless,' he paused, remembering those first few days and hours. '…it meant nothing and we couldn't…_I_ couldn't let that be it.' He looked up to see Merlin's wide eyes and white face.

'What are you saying?'

'Merlin,' Arthur began gently, forcing himself to keep looking at the face of his friend. 'These talks were supposed to be your legacy. The only reason they're happening is because of you.'

* * *

Merlin didn't remember what he had said in order to leave Arthur's and Gwen's chambers. He remembered both of them asking him what was wrong, remembered making some excuse to do with chores, but the next thing he knew after that was standing in the middle of his own chambers, his entire body trembling as he let Arthur's words sink in.

_'The only reason they're happening is because of you.'_

Merlin sank to his knees, unable to remain standing anymore. He covered his head with his hands, wanting nothing more than to tear at his hair.

What was he doing? What was he stuck in the middle of? And how could possibly continue to work against Arthur? Everything here: all the gathered leaders, all Arthur's speeches about unity and peace, all the kingdoms represented; everything was here because of him, because whoever he had been before in Camelot was someone whose life and death had to matter in the eyes of the King.

That person from before -that Merlin who had lied everyday to his King, but yet had seemed to be willing to anything for him- _that_ Merlin had wanted these talks to go ahead. _He_ had wanted these talks to go ahead. He had believed in them; he had encouraged Arthur to see them through.

In destroying them with Tiden, Merlin had betrayed not only Arthur and Camelot and Gwen and Gwaine and every other person who had cared for him and loved him, but he had betrayed himself. He was destroying his own dream to try and create a new one in Cyathia.

The self-loathing that surrounded him at that moment was overpowering in its intensity. This wasn't who he was supposed to be. The thought had been hidden away at the back of his mind for days, but now he couldn't ignore it. The truth was undeniable: living in Cyathia was not his destiny. With or without his memory, he understood now: his destiny was in Camelot at Arthur's side. The instant he allowed the thought to fully form in his mind, he felt a flood of certainty fill him in a way that he hadn't felt in the last seven weeks of his life.

He was meant to be here.

He was meant to be fighting for the success of the talks with Arthur; he had believed in them, and Arthur had believed in them enough to try and make them Merlin's inheritance. He had believed in Merlin enough to entrust the unity of Albion to his legacy.

And if that was the case; if the dedication and devotion that Merlin had understood in his fleeting memory returns and in his interactions with Arthur were true, then he couldn't deny one simple fact.

His loyalty lay with Arthur.

It didn't matter about the mark burned into his skin. Yes, it had been created as a symbol of loyalty to Tiden, but it didn't control Merlin's thoughts and feelings; it couldn't stop him from switching his loyalties; it just meant that Tiden would know. Which meant…

It didn't take long. Minutes later, Merlin got to his feet as he heard footsteps running up the stairs outside. He took a deep breath, turned to face the door and lifted his chin, just in time to see Steven burst through the door.

The man moved forward instantly, but though there was anger on his face, that wasn't the overriding emotion. No, overshadowing the aggression in Steven was an excitement, a restrained ecstasy. He had been waiting for this; had been waiting to be let lose to deal with Merlin however he pleased. Merlin had seen it in every interaction between them; the loathing that Steven held for him, for reasons that Merlin doubted either of them really understood. But what he did know was that up until now, Merlin's loyalty to Tiden had protected him from Steven's persecution; that protection was gone.

Merlin stood his ground as the man approached, but Steven seemed to enjoy the challenge that he was being met with.

'I do believe you were meant to be meeting with me the moment you left Arthur,' he began. 'You have information to give us.'

The sneer on Steven's face was enough to send defiance flaring through Merlin. This was his own life; he wasn't some puppet to be used and threatened.

'I'm not doing this anymore.'

Steven laughed and shook his head.

'You're under the impression that you can leave Tiden's service whenever it pleases you? You're even more naïve than I thought.'

'You can't make me do anything,' Merlin told him, stepping forward. He wasn't all that keen to close the gap between the two of them, but Steven hadn't attacked him the moment he arrived, which was what Merlin had expected, and the man's restraint, though confusing, made Merlin feel more confident. 'This mark-' he pointed to his arm '-doesn't hold me to that promise; it can't control my decisions.'

Another laugh from Steven and he shook his head patronisingly, as if Merlin hadn't got a clue what he was talking about.

'No, the mark may not hold your loyalty, but I'll bet blackmail will.'

'You can't do anything to me,' Merlin told him, 'If you expose me to Arthur then you expose yourselves.'

'Expose you?' Steven grinned. 'Why would we do that when we need you right where you are?'

'I told you,' Merlin said through gritted teeth, 'I'm not doing this anymore.'

Steven nodded at him and then moved across the room. Confusion flooded Merlin as the man began inspecting vials and looking around as if he was there for a casual visit.

'How is your mother of late?'

It took less than a second for Merlin to understand the meaning behind the words. His entire body went cold, even as his heart began to hammer. Now he understood why Steven hadn't beaten him; this attack had been an emotional one from the start. But still, Merlin refused to believe what the man was insinuating.

'My mother has nothing to do with this.'

'That's right,' the man nodded, 'because she's in…Ealdor, is it?'

'If you try anything-'

'Have you heard from her recently?' he interrupted. He turned to look at Merlin now, his face full of what looked like mild interest. Merlin didn't reply; did Steven know about the letter? 'Now, Merlin, don't hold out on me. Perhaps I can guess,' he continued and Merlin could see the amusement and satisfaction he was getting from the exchange. 'A sickness, perhaps, in your lovely little village?'

'I don't know how you found out ab-'

'Found out? Oh, Merlin. You do make these things so much more interesting. Have you still not caught on?' Merlin felt his anger rising; he didn't know what Steven was getting at, but the more he thought about it, the more his panic began to rise. He thought of the day when he had returned to Camelot, thought of Peter's discovery that one of Steven's men had left and returned; thought about when the letter had come. He remembered reading it, remembered thinking that something didn't seem quite right. Without saying a word to Steven he raced into his room and pulled out the box from the chest in there, the one he had found with various keepsakes. With trembling fingers, he pulled out the items he was looking for; letters –many of them- that his mother had sent to him while in Camelot. He had skimmed them briefly when he found the box, desperate to understand what his role here had been, but she had said nothing that helped him and so he had put them to one side.

Now, though, he wished that he had paid more attention. He looked at the letter he had pulled out, his eyes focussing on the gentle curves of different letters, the way she flicked the quill at the end of certain words. And with horror, he realised one thing for certain: the letter that Arthur had received had not been written by her. He picked up the other letters, frantically skimming through them in the hope that he would see handwriting that matched that of Arthur's letter, but that hope quickly died.

He turned, fury raging through him, but he saw that Steven was already at his door, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

'Would you like to know how she is?'

Before Merlin knew what he was doing, he had raised his hand, sending Steven –and the letters, which had still been clutched in his hand- flying through the door to land heavily on the floor. He looked shocked at the action for a moment, but soon recovered his senses enough to stand up.

'Really?' he asked. 'Using magic in Camelot?' He walked forward until he was in front of Merlin.

'Tell me where she is,' he hissed through clenched teeth, but in reply, Steven only delivered a staggering punch to his stomach, sending him crashing to the floor, gasping in pain. Instantly, Steven was next to him. Merlin raised his hand to use magic, but the man's boot came down painfully on it. Merlin knew that he could deliver an attack anyway, but he needed information.

'What have you done with her?'

'Oh not just her,' Steven told him, crouching down and whispering in his ear. 'The physician seems just as fond of you. It was easy enough to convince them to leave Ealdor once they heard you were alive. And even easier to imprison them after that.'

'If you hurt her…'

'If we do, it'll be because you don't do as you're asked,' Steven told him, his voice hard and unrelenting. 'Now do you understand, Merlin? The mark can sense your loyalty, but it takes much more to ensure that it's kept where it is needed. Tiden didn't trust you from the minute he found out your connection to the King. He took certain measures to ensure that you kept your end of the bargain. Had you turned out to be the spy we first assumed, your mother would have been our guarantee that you wouldn't expose us. Now she ensures that you will see this through to the end.'

He moved off, his foot finally coming away from Merlin's throbbing hand. Merlin stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on Steven, wanting nothing more than to tear him apart with magic. He could feel the power flowing through him, ready to do his bidding, but he held it steady. He couldn't risk it. Steven, seeing this, smiled again and moved towards the door.

'You will see this through or we'll kill her,' Steven told him. 'I think that's simple enough for you to understand.' With that, he turned and disappeared through the door, leaving Merlin standing in the room terrified and alone.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thanks very much for the reviews! I'm back a lot sooner than expected due to the fact that I had a highly productive writing weekend! Managed over 8000 words and so I'm quite a few chapters ahead of myself. Soooo, I thought I might as well post again. This chapter hasn't been as thoroughly checked as usual, but hopefully there won't be too many typos.

Anyway, please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 19**

For several minutes, Merlin didn't move as an encasing panic spread over him and seeped through his skin. He could feel the desperation clawing its way through his chest until he found it difficult to breathe.

He doubled over, planting his hands on his knees as a way of steadying himself. He took deep breaths, closing his eyes as he did. He focussed all his attention on the steady in and out of his chest; he could hear the inhale and exhale of air loudly in the room and he allowed it to block out all of his thoughts until there was nothing left in his head.

With something verging on clarity now in his mind, Merlin moved over to the table and heavily sank down on the stool there. He put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands.

What could he do?

All his life he had protected his mother from everything; from the moment he understood that he was the man of the household, that it was his duty to look after her and be there for her. His father, whoever he was, had never been around and his mother had never mentioned him. At first, Merlin had struggled with that, struggled with who he was and where he had come from and why his mother had been left alone by someone who should have loved her. But when he had once voiced his anger at the man who had abandoned them, his mother had told him so fiercely, and with such conviction, that his father was a good man who would have stayed if he could, that Merlin had fallen silent. Since then, he hadn't asked anymore, but he had decided that his mother would always have someone to look after her.

Part of him wondered why he had come to Camelot, why he had gone against such a deeply engrained instinct to stay with her, but having read her letters -which were still scattered on the floor- he knew that she must have wanted him to go. She must have supported the decision otherwise, quite simply, he wouldn't be here. So maybe leaving her to go to Camelot had been acceptable, but nothing could take away his guilt that he had not gone and found her rather than staying in Cyathia. He clenched his fist together and squeezed his eyes closed: why had he let himself get so swept up in the life that Cyathia had supposedly been offering him? He had put it before everything else. His desperation to fit in, to be accepted, even to be admired, had convinced him that his mother would be fine without him, at least for now. Looking back, he had never known himself to be so selfish and so self absorbed. He had put his own happiness before that of others and now they were paying for it: Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, his mother.

He thought of her again, remembered her gentleness and compassion. She had never done anything to harm anyone. But now…now he was here and she was in trouble. And he could do nothing to help her. He would have to go through with his deception; no matter how much he felt like he shouldn't; no matter how much he believed he should be at Arthur's side, he could not risk his mother's life. And suddenly it really did feel like her life was in danger: in danger from Steven and from Tiden. Never before had Merlin really felt any genuine threat from the two of them. He had become wary of them; had been more measured in how he interacted and addressed them and –when it came to Steven- he hadn't ruled out the idea that the man would quite happily cause _him_ a lot of physical harm, but he had never believed that they would go as far as to threaten someone's life.

But he had seen Steven's face, had heard the dark resolution in his voice. He _would_ carry out his threat, which meant that Merlin was trapped as a spy in the very place he wanted to be a servant. But did that mean that once the talks had officially failed Merlin would be free from this obligation? He could promise not to expose Cyathia, could give his word that the kingdom would stay safe from Camelot's prejudice's, but would Tiden accept that, would he believe Merlin? Somehow, it seemed unlikely.

The implications of _that_ threatened to thicken the walls of the prison that Merlin suddenly found himself in and so he refused to contemplate it. He raised his head and stared resolutely ahead. He could do this; he could see this through. He could shut out his sympathies for Arthur; he could stand by silently and wait out the end of the talks; he could pretend that he wasn't destroying his own dream in fuelling their demise. He would do as Tiden wanted.

But even as the bitter resolve entered him, he found his confusion rising. What did Tiden and Steven want from him? What more could they possibly need from him? Merlin had kept them informed of Arthur's fears over the talks, had given them –he now realised- everything they had needed to destroy Arthur in front of the other monarchs; they had known exactly how to back Arthur into a corner; exactly how to destroy his confidence, and all because of the information Merlin had given them. The fact was, he could leave Camelot right now and it wouldn't change anything. The talks were headed for disaster

So why did they still want him here?

From the other side of the room, a banging on the door made Merlin jump, and as the door flew open he jumped to his feet, expecting it to be Steven returning. So it was that when Gwaine caught sight of him standing up, one hand up in front of him and a fierce glare in his face, the knight's smile faded to be replaced instantly with a look of concern.

'Merlin? What's the matter?' He shut the door behind him and walked over to Merlin. Merlin quickly dropped his hand and forced his body to relax. He shook his head and plastered a smile on his face, but he knew it would look weak.

'You just surprised me,' he said, sitting back down. 'Did you want me?'

'You asked me to come and fill you in, remember: help you jog your memory,' Gwaine said with a frown. 'Merlin, what's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

Gwaine shook his head, moving until he was right in front of Merlin. His concern was clear.

'Don't forget, Merlin,' and there was something more forceful in his voice now, 'at the moment I know you better than you do. So what's wrong?'

Merlin shook his head. He was certain that informing one of Arthur's knights about Cyathia's plan would be a sure way to get his mother and Gaius killed very quickly. He forced a laugh out, but it seemed to stick in his throat.

'Really, Gwaine-'

'I'll go and ask Arthur then,' the man said, turning on his heel.

'No!' Merlin called, standing up again before he could stop himself. Gwaine looked at him, a grim victory in his face. He stayed still for several seconds, his expression making it clear that if Merlin didn't speak he would head up to Arthur.

Merlin took several moments to consider his options, but he realised that there weren't many. If Gwaine went and told Arthur that something was wrong, Merlin feared that the King would not let up until he found out what it was. It would most likely make him even more suspicious than he already was after Merlin's abrupt departure from the room earlier.

Could he make something up? But what could he possibly say that would explain his behaviour, which undoubtedly looked odd, especially to someone who apparently knew him as well as Gwaine did. But was the truth any better? He couldn't implicate Tiden; Gwaine would surely feel honour bound to tell Arthur, and that was Merlin's end of the bargain gone. But if he told the truth and laid all the blame on Steven then Gwaine would want to know why he was holding Merlin's mother and Gaius hostage. He would want to know exactly what they wanted Merlin for.

Unless…

Merlin looked up at Gwaine and considered all that he knew about the man, all that he had surmised about their past relationship. It was very little in all, but he guessed, and hoped, that he could get away with the next few words.

'Gwaine,' he began steadily. The knight waited patiently. 'I need your help.'

'You know I'll help you with anything.'

Merlin nodded. 'I'm realising that about a lot of people. But…' he sighed and gathered his resolve. '…I also need you to trust me.'

'Merlin, what is going on?'

'You must promise me that you won't tell Arthur,' Merlin continued and he could hear the pleading in his voice. Gwaine looked at him uncertainly. He had a feeling that in the past the man wouldn't have given a second thought to agreeing, but now he hesitated.

'Are you in trouble?' he asked instead.

'Promise me that you won't tell him, or anyone else,' Merlin repeated.

'Merlin-'

'Promise.'

'Fine,' Gwaine said with a sigh, 'but you better start telling me what the hell's going on.'

Merlin swallowed heavily and closed his eyes in relief. Knights of Camelot were bound by a certain unspoken code, and keeping promises were most definitely part of it.

'I need your help to find my mother.'

'What are you on about? She's in Ealdor.'

'No she's not,' Merlin said, taking another deep breath.

'What are you on about?'

'She and Gaius are being held hostage by someone from Cyathia.'

'What?'

'Their lives are in danger.'

'What?' Gwaine repeated, frowning at Merlin as if he'd gone mad.

'I know it sounds ridiculous-'

'Of course it does. Merlin, your mother sent a letter to Arthur.'

'I've looked at letters she sent me,' he said, gesturing to the papers scattered about the floor. 'It doesn't match the handwriting from the letter.'

'But why would someone take your mother hostage? Why…' but he tailed off and then slowly fixed his gaze on Merlin.

'What have you got yourself into, Merlin?' he asked, all his disbelief gone as he stepped closer.

'I can't tell you,' he said quickly shaking his head and refusing to meet Gwaine's gaze.

'Someone's blackmailing you?'

'It doesn't matter what they're doing, you just need to know that my mother and Gaius are in danger.'

'Merlin, what are they making you do?'

'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'You said you'd help me.'

Gwaine watched him for several seconds, his expression grim. He studied Merlin, searching him out, and Merlin knew the knight was trying to set his personal feelings aside and look at the situation as a knight of Camelot, not a friend of someone who could barely remember the last few years off his life. There was doubt on the man's face, uncertainty. A battle seemed to rage in him as if wanted desperately to believe, but couldn't quite bring himself to. Merlin realised that the knight was wondering whether he really could be trusted. The thought sent a pang of sorrow through him. No-one from his old life had mistrusted him; they had all accepted him back with no questions asked.

'Is Arthur in danger?' Gwaine said slowly, after a long pause.

'What? No!' Merlin said forcefully. 'You know I'd never put Arthur at risk.'

'I know that in the past you never would have done,' he replied quietly, but Merlin could see how he hated saying the words.

'I remember enough of my old life, Gwaine. I will not let any harm come to Arthur.'

'Then what can they possibly be asking you to do?'

Merlin shook his head desperately. 'Please, Gwaine; there isn't anyone else who can help me. I don't know what to do.'

'Alright,' the man agreed heavily, 'but I won't go against Arthur and I won't forsake my loyalty as knight.'

'I'd never ask you to.'

'In that case, tell me what you can.'

Merlin spent the next few minutes explaining as much as he possibly could to Gwaine. The only name he gave was Steven and Gwaine didn't ask about anyone else's involvement. The knight looked more and more uncomfortable as Merlin explained his rapidly forming theory about what could possibly have happened at Ealdor: that someone under Steven's command had beat Arthur's messenger to the village and then posed as a watchman of some sort, trying to keep visitors away from the supposed-illness that villages were suffering with.

'Well, I can find out for you,' Gwaine said as Merlin finished.

'What do you mean?'

'It was Elyan who took the message.'

'Elyan,' Merlin frowned. The name seemed familiar. 'The Queen's brother?' he ventured uncertainly.

'Yeah, he took the message; he brought the letter back. I'll go and get him.'

'We can't involve him; he's the Queen's brother. He'll tell her or Arthur.'

'We can trust him,' Gwaine replied, 'He will keep our confidence.'

Merlin hesitated, but in the end, he knew he had no choice. 'Very well. You can't bring him here though,' Merlin argued, but didn't elaborate on his hesitation; he somehow thought that mentioning his suspicions that Steven would be watching him was not a good way to make Gwaine feel any better about the situation. 'How about we meet in the stable in a few minutes?' he continued quickly. The man looked set to argue, but he eventually nodded.

'Alright. I'll be there.'

The door closed, leaving Merlin alone in the room once again. He wasn't entirely sure that this was the best course of action, but he wanted his mother out of Tiden's grasp, and not to mention the fact that as soon as she was, Merlin would be free of his obligations once again. The tension between himself and Tiden would meet a stalemate. The King was unlikely to expose Merlin as a sorcerer for fear that Merlin would expose him in return and bring Arthur's wrath down on him. Where that would leave Cyathia? Merlin didn't know, but he doubted it would come to that. As soon as Merlin's mother was safe, so was he.

He looked around the room and saw his mother's letters still caste about the floor. Quickly he bent down to pick them up, scooping them together and allowing his eyes to take in the messages of love and care that lay on them. He felt his eyes prickle with tears, but did nothing to hinder them; with a plan now in motion and his initial shock wearing off, Merlin found that sadness and desperation were all he had to focus on. And with them came tears that he couldn't help but let fall.

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By the time he arrived at the stables, Merlin had managed to reign in his emotions to a point where he could nod cheerfully to passers-by who called to him and could even smile at the few that called him by name. He had walked quickly through the courtyard, allowing the sounds of clinking armour, friendly conversation and general bustle to fill his head so that he was not able to contemplate the darker thoughts that were vying for his attention.

The afternoon light was beginning to fade into evening and Merlin felt the chill of the night air creeping in. So much so that he couldn't help but shiver in his thin clothes; he wondered if that was entirely down to the coolness of the hour or whether his body was reacting to the emotional trauma that he had been through over the past hour. What with his mother, Arthur, Steven, Tiden and Gwaine, Merlin was hard pressed not to let his thoughts spin out of control.

Realising that he was beginning to sink back into the mire of fear, Merlin shook his head and focussed on his surroundings instead. The stables looked much the same as they had done every time he'd been to see Peter over the last few days, which had been frequently to ensure that the boy wasn't doing something that would later turn out to be stupid. All around, Cyathia's horses shuffled back and forth, but there were a couple of stalls that were empty. For a second, Merlin wondered if some of Steven's men had the other horses and were up to something else, but then he heard the click of hooves behind him and saw Peter leading two horses back to their stables.

'You're here early,' Peter grinned when he saw him. He quickly took the horses into their stables and fed them a few apples that he had in his pocket. 'I thought you had meetings and servanting to do.'

'They finished early.'

'How early? Don't you usually get grilled for information by the rat afterwards?' Merlin said nothing, which caused Peter to look over at him, his brow furrowed. 'Merlin?'

And that was all it took for Merlin to relay the story back to Peter. He told the boy everything, even mentioning his desire to serve Arthur in a genuine capacity. Up until now, he had avoided saying too much along those lines; he knew that Peter wanted him to go back to Cyathia and, before today, Merlin had still be relatively certain that he would. Still, Peter must have picked up on the change that Merlin had been going through over the past few days because at the mention of staying in Camelot, the boy didn't make loud, shocked objections; he simple studied the ground for several seconds, sadness and loneliness etching itself into his face, but above all he seemed to exude a sense of inevitability. It seemed that he had known it was coming before Merlin had.

Whatever his feelings on the decision, however, he pushed them aside, and his outrage at Steven's actions and threats were more than evident.

'I knew he was up to something,' he muttered. 'Poor excuse for a man. Power-hungry and deluded. And Tiden!' he added, his eyes going wide. 'A moral king who doesn't want to use magic for evil? Strange way of showing it!'

'Will you keep your voice down,' Merlin told him firmly, glancing around frantically, but there was no-one there. Peter did the same, looking around with fearful eyes; evidently he had forgotten exactly where they were.

'And James,' he added, his voice a whisper. 'So much for his friendship; he was playing you the whole time.'

'James?' Merlin asked. With a jolt he realised that he hadn't even thought about James; the man hadn't even crossed his mind in the last hour or so. Steven's threat had not made Merlin think of his mentor from Cyathia, and even now the notion of him been a part of this plan seemed absurd.

'Well, he's the King's advisor too,' Peter pointed out. 'It's not as if Tiden could do this without his knowledge.' Merlin shook his head.

'James can't be involved in this.'

'Why not? He's been part of the rest of it hasn't he? You said yourself that you passed on your information to him as well as Steven.'

'But…he seemed different somehow,' Merlin argued. 'When I spoke to him, he was always…I don't know. He'd hardly say anything.'

'He never says anything anyway.'

'But he wasn't like Steven. He took no pleasure from destroying the talks.'

'He just covers his emotions better than Steven.'

But Merlin shook his head. Although he hadn't seen much of James since they arrived in Camelot, he remembered clearly how the man had looked after him in Cyathia; how he had taught him about magic and encouraged him. He couldn't deny that the man did seem to have changed since the start of the talks, but that didn't mean he was in on the same plot.

'Well,' Peter ventured after a few moment's silence, 'either way, I don't think you should involve him in this plan.'

'I agree.' He was going to follow that up with another desperate defence of James, but sounds from outside drew his attention. A moment later, Gwaine appeared with one of the knights that Merlin recognised; he hadn't really said anything to this new knight however. His familiarity with him stemmed mostly from comments Gwen had made about her brother.

'I've filled him in,' Gwaine nodded towards Elyan as they approached. 'And no-one's been following us as far as I can tell.'

'You promise me that Arthur is in no danger,' Elyan asked, fixing Merlin with a stare. His tone was gentle enough, but there was a determination in his eyes.

'I promise. As I said to Gwaine, I would never do anything to harm Arthur.'

That was all it really took to placate Elyan and Merlin guessed that the man had already come to the decision to help, or else he wouldn't be here; he would be filling Arthur in on a few details that he was currently missing.

An uneasy silence followed, but Peter soon broke it.

'Don't you think coming up with a plan of some sort might be an idea?' he asked pointedly.

'Your friend's got a lot to say,' Gwaine said, raising an eyebrow in Peter's direction.

'What information do you need from me?' Elyan asked, stepping forward towards Merlin.

'I think that one of Steven's men got to Ealdor before you. Can you tell me what happened when you arrived?'

'The journey was straightforward. I arrived in the early morning the day after I set out –the day after you arrived in Camelot.'

'And did you speak to my mother or Gaius?' Merlin asked urgently.

'No. When I got within half a mile, I was met by an old man. He was turning people away from the village because of a sickness.' Movement from one of the other stables stopped all of them for a moment and Gwaine carefully ventured outside, but returned seconds later saying that it was just some of Gwynedd's stable hands

'So you didn't go to the village?' Merlin continued. He shook his head.

'The man went instead. He told me he would pass on the letter from Arthur. I saw no reason to doubt his word and he returned half an hour later with a response from your mother.'

'And that's all?'

'Yes.'

'Did you notice any other horse tracks on the floor?'

'Not that I recall, but I wasn't looking for them. There may have been.' Merlin nodded his thanks. Elyan's story did nothing to disprove his suspicions, but it also did nothing to corroborate them.

'And he didn't do anything else before you left?'

'No,' he sighed apologetically, 'I'm sorry Merlin. Nothing seemed amiss and-'

'How did you know he was old?' Peter interrupted. All of them turned to him.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, how did you know he was old? Grey hair? Slow on his feet?'

'Well…' Elyan began, but he frowned. 'I just assumed,' he continued, almost to himself. He looked up, a new intensity in his eyes. 'I assumed he was old because he was stooped and his voice was frail, but I never saw his face. He was cloaked and hooded.'

'See!' Peter said triumphantly.

'See what?' Gwaine asked.

'It was Steven's man. He raced out of here as soon as that first meeting finished. He beat you there,' he said turning to Elyan, 'got rid of you with the letter…'

'…and then told my mother and Gaius that I was alive, convinced them he was sent by Arthur and then took them somewhere,' Merlin finished. 'There was never any sickness. It was a deception to keep you out of the village and then take my mother and Gaius.'

'One man to kidnap two people?' Elyan asked sceptically.

'But he wouldn't have had to.' Merlin pointed out. 'They'd have come willingly; they'd have used Gaius' horse and just followed him.'

'But they both know the way to Camelot.'

'That's easy,' Peter answered, 'just tell them there's a fallen branch on the road, or that one of the rivers has flooded, or that there have been sightings of wolves. Any of that would have worked. And they'd have been so desperate to see Merlin that they'd have done what he said. They'd have walked straight into a trap.'

'Gaius wouldn't have fallen for it,' Gwaine argued. 'Trust me; that man is shrewd.'

'Well obviously this time he wasn't,' Peter retorted. 'Anyway, that's beside the point. We need to work out where he took them.'

Merlin watched Gwaine and Elyan's expressions go from confusion to mild irritation as they looked at the stable hand; perhaps Peter was more of an acquired taste than Merlin had realised.

'Please,' Merlin said, cutting off any further tense exchanges. 'I don't know how to find them, but if either of you have any ideas.'

'I can go to Ealdor,' Gwaine suggested; 'At least then we can find out if the sickness is real, and if not I can ask when Gaius left. I won't be missed for a day or so; Elyan can cover for me, but there's no guarantee that anyone will know anything. If, as you suggest, they left of their own freewill, no-one will have thought twice.'

'But what then?' Elyan asked. 'Any tracks will have gone. The trail will be cold by now.'

Merlin felt his frustration mounting. Elyan was right; tracking was hard enough when there was only a few hours delay, and they had been in Camelot for well over a week now. At that thought, though, something else crossed his mind. He grasped at it desperately.

'If they're being kept prisoner, then someone must be taking them food and water.'

'Unless they have enough where they're being kept,' Elyan replied reluctantly.

'If they're being held prisoner, then I doubt they'll be given freedom enough to provide themselves with those things.' No-one said anything, but Merlin could see that the knights weren't convinced. Peter, too, stayed uncharacteristically silent. 'Well, we don't have anything else to go on,' Merlin told them firmly.

'Alright, it's a start,' Gwaine nodded. 'So if someone's bringing them food, then are they likely to be going from Camelot?'

'I don't know. Have you noticed anybody leaving?' Merlin asked turning to Peter.

'You told me not to spy on them,' he replied incredulously.

'I know. I don't mean that. I just mean have you seen anything unusual; people leaving at strange times? It might help us out.'

'Imagine how much more use I'd have been if you'd let me spy,' he retorted pointedly.

'Yes, I know,' Merlin sighed.

'Well lucky for you, I don't listen to what you say.' He grinned at Merlin.

'You've been watching them?'

'Yes.'

'Peter,' he said through clenched teeth.

'Well it's a good job I did, because now I can tell you that somebody has been going in and out of the stables every couple of days.'

'What?'

'They take a horse in the middle of the night and they're back by the early hours of the morning.'

'How do you know that?' Merlin asked, turning to face him fully and torn between the desire to shout at him for once again putting himself in a position to be a problem to Steven, and hugging him for being so reckless. At Merlin's question he walked around the corner, past where Zephyr's stall was. Partially hidden behind several crates, Merlin caught sight of what Peter was trying to show him. A pile of blankets and an old pillow were arranged there.

'You slept in here?' Merlin asked him in disbelief.

'Only for a few nights. I noticed that Torrent was worn out in the mornings; that he slept longer than the other horses. He had mud on his hooves so I knew someone must be taking him out.' He shrugged. 'I wanted to find out who.'

'But if you'd been seen?'

'Well I wasn't.'

'Who did you see?' Gwaine asked, cutting off the next reprimand that Merlin was going to throw at Peter. But as much as he wanted to tell the boy off for doing something so dangerous, he couldn't stop the gratitude that flowed from him at the devotion he seemed to have from him.

'It was one of Steven's men, but I don't know which one. All of them have been out and about in Camelot as much as each other so I'm not-'

'Wait.' Merlin interrupted. 'You've been watching them in Camelot as well?'

'Of course,' he nodded. 'And they're up to something,' he continued, seemingly unconcerned by the look Merlin was giving him. 'They're spending all their time with the soldiers. And not just Camelot's or Cyathia's, but from all the different kingdoms.'

'Which men are you talking about?' Elyan asked, stepping forward.

'I can't remember all their names,' he frowned. 'I think there's Thomas…' he looked over at Merlin for confirmation. Merlin couldn't remember ever hearing them referred to by their names, but that seemed familiar.' He nodded.

'Thomas and-'

'Joseph?' Gwaine interrupted.

'Yeah, I think so,' Peter replied. 'How do you know?'

'Because you're right; they're always around. Elex and John as well. I actually get on quite well with them,' he admitted reluctantly.

'You've been talking to them?' Merlin asked.

'As have I,' Elyan added. Merlin looked between the two of them and then back to Peter.

'See, I told you they were up to something.'

'Well what do they talk about?'

'Nothing really,' Gwaine shrugged. 'They're interested in missions and expeditions-'

'And you've been telling them?' Merlin asked in alarm.

'Well, yeah. They never asked anything to make me suspicious; they never ask about Camelot or anything about Arthur.'

'They just seemed interested,' Elyan added.

Merlin looked between the knights, but he could see a growing unease on their faces as they considered Steven's men. Merlin couldn't stop his own fear from rising up as he went back over what had been said: dark figures leaving in the middle of the night; people posing as old men outside villages; Steven's men involving themselves with the soldiers and knights; not only involving themselves, but seemingly being accepted quite readily by them.

He felt like blackness was swallowing him. The pit that he had been plunged into at the news of his mother seemed to be deepening. The urgency in him to act was growing with every passing second and he could see that the same was true of the others. With a numb detachment, he watched the three of them make arrangements. Gwaine would set out for Ealdor. It was agreed that he would wait until night, just in case one of Steven's men was planning to go out that day; anything to make the task easier. If no-one appeared, however, he would wait until first light and see if he could find the tracks that Steven's man would have left from his night time journeys. The knight had been concerned that his missing horse would raise alarms and so Peter suggested Zephyr, which the knight agreed to with very little prompting.

As their planning went on, Gwaine's uncertainty towards Peter seemed to fade, not least because the boy showed such determination and had so many good ideas. After suggesting Zephyr, he also suggested that they mark Torrent's shoes so that tracking would be easier. Both Gwaine and Elyan had stared at him in admiration at the suggestion and then set to marking the metal shoes using tools that were kept in the chests at the back of the stable.

With Gwaine's task sorted, Elyan then determined to pay closer attention to the things that Steven's men were saying to see if he could work out what was going on. Before Peter could tell them what he planned to do, the two knights had left the stables on their own separate missions. Gwaine had arranged to come back that night to sleep in the stables.

Soon, Merlin was left alone with Peter.

'Things are being done now, Merlin. Gwaine seems tough enough and mad enough. He'll find them.'

'Something's going on,' he replied instead. He had barely heard what Peter was saying.

'I know.'

'Something bigger than just me and Steven.'

'I know,' Peter repeated, this time his voice had softened.

Merlin looked up. He saw Peter staring at him expectantly and felt determination flood through him. He thought of his mother, in danger because of him, because of whatever Steven and Tiden had planned. He thought of Arthur, so pleased to have Merlin back and yet about to see his dreams of a united future torn apart because of that very same person. Merlin could not let his mother die; he could not let Arthur's kingship take such a blow.

He took a deep breath.

'Whatever Tiden and Steven have planned, I am going to stop it.'

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	20. Chapter 20

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Glad you enjoyed the early update this week and thanks for the reviews! I have big writing plans over the next few days, so I think the updates should be fairy regular! This chapter is the last non-cliffy for a while, so make the most of it! Let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 20**

Arthur looked expectantly at the door to his chambers for what felt like the hundredth time in the last half hour, but it remained stubbornly closed, as it had done every other time he looked. He sighed emphatically.

'Arthur,' Guinevere said softly, 'I can just call my maid and ask her to get us our dinner. Or if not, I'm sure there are plenty of servants who will do the job.'

'It isn't their job though. It's Merlin's.' Arthur ignored the sympathetic look that he saw Guinevere give to him. 'Where is he?'

'Perhaps he forgot.'

'He hasn't forgotten anything for the past week, why would he start now?' Once again she stayed silent, but Arthur knew she was biting her tongue. He sighed and looked over at her. 'Fine, go on then,' he muttered. She smiled at him and then a moment later came and sat on his lap at the table. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

'I think he was a bit overwhelmed to hear about the reasons for the talks.'

'I know.'

'So perhaps he's not here because he's thinking it through.'

'Merlin doesn't think,' Arthur retorted, but it was a half-hearted jibe; it didn't have quite the same effect when Merlin wasn't there to hear it.

'Yes he does and you know it. How else does he come out with some of the things he says?'

'Used to say,' Arthur corrected.

'Will say again,' she smiled.

'You think so?'

'Don't you?'

Arthur considered the question. When he compared the Merlin who had stared unknowingly at him during that first meeting with King Tiden and the Merlin who had been with him over the past few days, he was hard pressed to believe they were one in the same. Then again, he still wasn't the Merlin from before.

But more and more, Arthur found himself expecting that person to reappear in his life. He was waiting for him to come in one morning and declare that all his memories had come back, and then make some joke about how that would be the end of his high quality servanting skills. That was what Arthur was expecting; the one thing that, initially, had been his key reason for not wanting to see or speak to Merlin. He had fallen into that trap of hope, but he had a feeling that he would find a way out of it; that Merlin would be able to pull him out.

And then this afternoon at the mention of his involvement in the talks –talks which Arthur had decided to put to the back of his mind for this evening- he had disappeared, giving some ridiculous reason about chores, which Arthur knew that he had already done. He had been acting oddly, even for Merlin.

And it wasn't that Arthur claimed to fully understand or know Merlin; he had a feeling that he never would -even in their closest moments, Arthur had always felt that Merlin was holding something back. He remembered Merlin once claiming that he was an open book, but Arthur had refuted it instantly. It wasn't as if that closed side of Merlin bothered him either; he had seen enough of Merlin to know that he had the man's complete loyalty. But always before, Arthur had felt at ease with that unseen part; it had never worried him, or given him cause for concern.

Now though, when he thought back on Merlin's hasty departure, he found that it didn't sit comfortably with him. Always before he had been able to shake off Merlin's odd behaviour or comments with a sense of security; quite simply: he hadn't needed to know. This time, however, he didn't feel that same sense of safety; there was something in the action that seemed to put him on alert and he found that he really did want to know why Merlin had bolted as he had.

He realised –and it sent pain through his chest- that he felt suspicious of Merlin, something that he had never felt before, not over anything serious. He looked back at Guinevere and sighed.

'I hope so, I really do,' he nodded. She smiled at him and headed towards the door.

'Then shall I call for my maidservant?' she asked.

'No,' he replied, standing up as she opened the door and then heading out of it himself. 'I'm going to go and find him.'

He didn't risk looking back at his wife's face; he was relatively certain that those weren't the words she had wanted to hear.

It took very little time to track Merlin down considering the size of the castle. He was hindered in his search, of course, by the numbers of people in the corridor who all insisted on bowing to him as he walked past. He had given up nodding his gratitude after the first few times; it just wasted time. He had searched along all the corridors between his chambers and the kitchens in the vain hope that Merlin really was on task and fetching his dinner, before confirming that his manservant wasn't there. It was on his way to Gaius' quarters that he found him. He was coming out of the wing, his face determined and his stride purposeful. He was so intent on wherever he was going that he failed to notice Arthur for several seconds. When he did, however, he stopped dead.

'Arthur?'

'Surprised to see me?'

'Yes,' he replied bluntly, his gaze shifting past Arthur and down the corridor. 'Did you want something?'

'Actually, there is something that I'd quite like,' he said with a feigned smile. Even in his distracted state, Merlin seemed to catch the underlying warning in Arthur's tone. 'My dinner!'

'Oh,' Merlin muttered. 'Oh,' he repeated, drawing out the word as he realised that he was very late at performing his job. 'Dinner,' he nodded with a heavy sigh. He looked down the corridor once again and made no effort to move.

'Am I keeping you from something, Merlin?'

'No, Sire,' he answered hastily. 'It's just…'

'What?'

'Did you want it right now?'

'No, I wanted it half an hour ago, but it wasn't forthcoming. What is that matter with you tonight? First you run off-'

'I didn't run off.'

'Well what would you call it?'

'I had things to do.'

'Such as?' Arthur asked him, folding his arms and looking expectantly at Merlin.

'Such as…' Merlin looked around as if hoping the answer would appear from thin air. 'Just things.'

'No, Merlin, you heard about your connection to the talks and you ran. And I want to know why.' He waited, watching Merlin's face crease in concentration, which only convinced Arthur that whatever he said next was going to be a lie.

'I had to-'

'The truth, Merlin,' Arthur interjected. 'Why did you run?' Merlin looked at him and then sighed and shook his head.

'Why do you think?' he asked. 'Arthur, you told me that you were trying to unite the entire land in memory of me! How was I supposed to react? I don't remember anything-'

'Yes you do.'

'Not enough to comprehend the idea of a King leaving a legacy like that to his servant.'

And suddenly Arthur wished he hadn't asked the question; wished he had just let Merlin spout his story about jobs that needed doing and then ordered him to go and get dinner. He had forgotten that Merlin could do things like this; could turn a perfectly reasonable interrogation on Arthur's part into something much deeper and much gentler; something that needed to be expanded on and explained.

'Arthur,' he said with another sigh. 'I don't remember Camelot; I don't remember…you or Gwen, not really. Everything I am doing here is based on some fragments of memory that tell me just enough to drive me mad and not enough to make me feel like I know who I am. And then you tell me that my death was important enough to a King that he wanted to bring peace from border to border just to make it count. In my mind, I was a farmer only a few months ago; there was nothing that made me important. I couldn't comprehend it, Arthur; I still can't. That's why I had to leave.'

Merlin fell silent and Arthur felt the weight of his words. He had never considered that; he had never really thought of what this experience had been like for Merlin; only now did he realise how selfish he had been. His thoughts, throughout this ordeal, had been only for himself and for his own reactions and emotions. He had thought nothing of the trial that Merlin was going through: all the new information that he had received and had had to accept about himself and his past life.

Arthur tried to think of what he could say in response, but nothing was forthcoming. With a sad smile Merlin walked past him.

'I'll go and get your dinner.' But as he walked away, Arthur found his voice.

'Merlin,' he called. The man turned back, but Arthur wasn't sure what to follow the call with. He thought back over what Merlin had said, and one thing stuck out in his mind. 'You realise don't you,' he began, wondering if he wanted to bear his soul quite so readily, but he continued on, 'that I wasn't leaving the legacy to my servant.'

'But you said-' Merlin began.

'I was leaving the legacy to my friend.'

It seemed as if the words had turned Merlin into a statue; he didn't move for several seconds. Only his eyes shifted, but from this distance, Arthur found it hard to read what was in them. But then Merlin nodded several times, his head bowed slightly, before he looked up more firmly.

'I know,' he answered, but his voice struggled on the words. Before Arthur could ask him anything else, he headed back into the castle.

* * *

Merlin tried to ignore the sense of time slipping away as he raced around the kitchens trying to gather up things for Arthur and Gwen's dinner. He had completely forgotten about it, what with everything else that was going on. Somehow, fetching food seemed insignificant. There were other things that he needed to do, vital things.

He had been on his way to do one such thing when Arthur had stopped him. He cringed as he considered what he had said in answer to Arthur's question about why he had run. He hadn't spoken the truth, that was for sure. Yes, he had been overwhelmed –so perhaps there was a half truth- but it wasn't entirely because Arthur was conducting these talks in memory of him –the fact was that the person he was at the moment, wasn't the Merlin who had these talks as a legacy. But through his memory returns, he knew who he had been; who the man was that Arthur had spoken to about peace in Albion. That was why he had run: because he knew he was destroying that person and Arthur with him.

But that would stop now. He would stop being a force for destruction and become a force for good and for honour and for loyalty and peace. With Gwaine about to start searching for his mother, Merlin was beginning to feel the cage that Steven had put him in widening and expanding. He felt like he could breathe again, felt like he could move around, if only with caution and subtlety.

His journey from Gaius' quarters –the one that Arthur had cut short- had been the first step forwards in his cage. He had been on his way to see James. He had thought carefully about going to see the man, but the fact was that he couldn't believe he was involved. Steven and Tiden's true colours seemed blatantly obvious to Merlin now –he felt a fool to have been so blind in his trust before- but when he considered James, nothing about the situation seemed to relate to the man that Merlin had met in Cyathia. Of course, if he was wrong, then confronting James would likely just make Tiden and Steven aware of how angry and desperate he felt –although they probably already knew that-, but he reasoned that they wouldn't hurt his mother just because he went and spoke to James. It wouldn't interfere with their plans for the talks and it wouldn't stop him from being able to spy on Arthur. In Steven and Tiden's eyes, it would be a desperate yet harmless action of a man who had been pushed to the limits of his endurance.

And if James turned out to be uninvolved in the situation, then Tiden and Steven wouldn't find out anyway.

Yes, that had been Merlin's plan and the thoughts that had brought him to it, but then Arthur had appeared and demanded to be fed and Merlin was hard pressed to find an excuse to get out of it. He raced up to Arthur's quarters and burst into the room without knocking; he cursed his forgetfulness and went back to knock on the door, but neither Arthur nor Gwen commented on the less then appropriate arrival. They seemed relieved to be finally getting some food; Arthur's snide remarks to the same effect made that abundantly clear.

Not a lot was said during the meal. Gwen attempted to make conversation, but Arthur seemed to have withdrawn into himself –no doubt dwelling on the talks yet again- and Merlin's answers weren't exactly lengthy whenever he was asked a question. Over the past week or so, the three of them had normally talked quite a bit; Arthur and Gwen filling him in on past events, or generally just involving him in their conversations. Tonight, however, the three of them said very little. Merlin vaguely wondered how similar their thoughts were as they conducted the meal silently; he doubted that there would be any similarities at all.

As Merlin was clearing away at the end of the meal, Arthur disappeared from the chambers, saying that he was going to take a walk in the lower town. Inwardly, Merlin had breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it gave him an opportunity to go and speak to James, but as he was heading towards the door with the remains of the meal piled precariously on a tray, Gwen called him back.

'My Lady?' he asked. She smiled fondly at him.

'Merlin.'

'Gwen,' he corrected, returning her smile. Although he now thought of her as 'Gwen' in his head, he had found it much harder to use her name than he had Arthur's. Very few of his returned memories had anything to do with the Queen and, as such, being relaxed around her didn't come as naturally as it did when he was with Arthur. Whether the lack of Gwen in his memories was because he hadn't spent as much time with her or because they weren't connected in the same way that he and Arthur were, Merlin didn't know, but either way it had made interacting with her on his own very difficult. Thankfully, up until now, there had only been fleeting moments when they were left alone. At this particular moment, however, she seemed keen to change that.

'Will you sit with me, Merlin?' Merlin eyed the door longingly; he had already been delayed in visiting James, he didn't wish to put it off any longer. But then he looked at her hopeful smile and heard the gentleness in her voice and he found himself laying the plates back down on the table and taking the seat across from her.

'Is everything alright?' he asked. Gwen laughed.

'I was about to ask you the same. What troubles you Merlin?'

The answers to that question were so numerous and so complicated that for a moment Merlin faltered under the weight of them.

'It's nothing,' he answered.

'Merlin, I have known you for so long. I know when you are troubled.'

'There's just a lot to understand,' he said evasively, although he doubted he was fooling her. She got up from her chair and came to sit in the one beside him. He tried not to shift nervously, but it was difficult.

'I know it's been very hard for you to be here, trying to fit into something that you don't remember, but you are doing well.'

Merlin nodded and looked up at her; there were tears in her eyes and her expression was one of hidden sadness. And suddenly he understood something that he had only briefly touched upon before now: Gwen had missed him just as Arthur had; in her own way, she had struggled through exactly the same emotions as her husband and yet she had kept them to herself, knowing that they would distress Arthur and Merlin in equal measure.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, as the revelation took hold, but he felt like he was apologising for more than his lack of effort with her; he was apologising for everything, for the betrayal, for the path he had unwittingly put himself on, for the future he had helped to destroy. He felt tears fill his own eyes. 'I have hardly spoken to you and yet I was your friend as well,' he continued, looking at her and trying to push away his darker thoughts.

'Long before you were Arthur's,' she nodded. 'You used to complain about him to me.'

'And you still married him?' Merlin asked, trying to force a smile as he blinked away his tears. She returned it with a quiet laugh, looking down in her lap for several seconds before returning her gaze to his.

'You changed him a lot.'

'I'm sure you did as well.'

'I think so,' she nodded, and suddenly Merlin didn't see her as the queen. She was just a young woman, talking to her friend, spending time with him. 'But you paved the way for all the changes in him. You put up with him Merlin, you really did. I'd see you sometimes; you'd be so cross with him and yet you never wavered in your commitment. To either of us,' she smiled. 'I feel I have you to thank for where I am now. I don't think I ever thanked you for that before.'

'I doubt Arthur would have needed much convincing. He loves you very much.'

'I know. But…' she shook her head. 'I wish you could remember Merlin, remember how much you've done; remember all the things that have come about because of you; remember the journey that you've been on.'

'So do I.'

'Sorry, Merlin,' she said quickly. 'I shouldn't have said anything.'

'No, don't be. I think it's what everyone wishes.'

There was silence for several seconds, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Eventually Gwen spoke. She looked up at him hopefully, but there was hesitancy in her voice.

'Can I ask you something?' she ventured.

'Of course,' he replied, but there was a certain intensity in her voice, which made him feel nervous.

'When the talks have finished, which I believe will be soon,' she said sadly, 'are you staying in Camelot?'

Merlin hadn't been expecting the question.

'Has Arthur-?

'No, he hasn't mentioned anything. But I think he assumes that you are. And yet…' she shook her head and looked at him. '…and yet I see you sometimes and you look lost and uncertain, and I don't know whether you want to stay. You sometimes seem so unhappy to be here.'

Merlin looked at her and saw how she struggled to say the words, how she wished she didn't have to.

'No, Gwen, please don't think for one moment that I'm not glad to be here with you and with Arthur in Camelot.'

'But sometimes-'

'That isn't because of anything that you or Arthur are doing. That's to do with…' he shook his head and looked away.

'Merlin?'

'There are things that I must face about my past and about my present,' he said eventually. 'And when I have faced them and overcome them…' he paused and murmured, almost to himself, 'and learned to live with them…' He looked at her again. '…then I promise you that I will be here in Camelot. I will stay, Gwen, if you and Arthur want me to.'

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'Of course we want you to.'

'Then I will,' he nodded. He stood up, trying not to look at the slight uncertainty on Gwen's face. He had said too much. 'I'll go and get these cleaned up,' he continued, picking up the plates and cutlery. 'I'll see you later, Gwen.'

Merlin spent the next half an hour cleaning up in the kitchen, trying to believe that he could really keep his promise to Gwen. He had said what was in his heart, rather than listened to the voice in his head telling him that Tiden and Steven wouldn't let him stay in Camelot. But once his mother was safe and once he had found out what they were doing, he would be able to control his own future. With that thought in mind, he headed to James' quarters.

The corridors were quiet by the time he got up to where James was staying. Thanks to Merlin's forgetfulness concerning dinner and Gwen's desire to talk, most people had already retired for the night. There were a few soldiers around at different points, but aside from that he was alone. He tried to walk around quietly, but without looking like he was trying to be quiet, which was much more difficult than he had expected. Even so, he couldn't help but feel like the entire situation was familiar and he got the feeling that he had spent a lot of time sneaking round the castle when he shouldn't have been. Even as he walked, snippets of memory seemed to come to him, just short flashes of him at different points of the castle, always trying to remain unseen, whether it be by using magic, or ducking into recesses.

When he reached James quarters, he checked up and down the corridor and then quietly turned the handle. The door was locked and so Merlin muttered a quick spell and then pushed the door open. It creaked slightly, but Merlin persisted; it was too late for him to change his mind now anyway.

The moment the door opened fully, Merlin was met by a stern looking James. He was standing up straight, his arms folded in front of him.

'I don't recall teaching you to open locks.'

'That skill is one of my own,' he replied, trying to ignore the discomfort he suddenly felt. In retrospect, perhaps breaking into James' room hadn't been his best plan. James' expression didn't waver, but Merlin detected a flicker in his eyes. He unfolded his arms and then walked past Merlin to shut the door.

Merlin took that as proof that he was allowed in and took several steps forward. He scanned the room in the fire and candle light. Against the left hand wall was an elegant wardrobe, which looked like it was well over a hundred years old, while the neatly made bed was pushed against the back wall, underneath windows that were hung with thick dark drapes. To his right, the fire burned low, small flames licking at what remained of the charred wood, and beside that was a writing desk with a parchment and quill laid out, as if they had only just been used.

'You shouldn't be in here. If King Arthur were to find out, you would find it difficult to explain.' He moved over to the desk and sat down, picking up a quill and writing on a parchment. He ignored Merlin, making no further effort to talk to him.

'I need to speak to you,' he pressed, moving over to the desk and leaning against it, keeping his eyes fixed on James until he looked up.

'I'm busy.'

'Then I will be quick.' Without saying a word, James replaced the quill in the ink well and moved his chair back so that he was facing Merlin. He nodded that he should continue.

'I want to know how you could do this to me and to my mother.' James frowned at him.

'What are you talking about?'

Merlin paused. His instant reaction was to sigh in relief: James didn't know that Merlin was being blackmailed; he was not in on whatever plan Tiden and Steven were setting up, but he forced himself to be cautious.

'I can't believe you anymore. I trusted you in Cyathia and now…'

'What are you talking about?' James repeated, sitting up straighter in his chair, his voice becoming firmer.

'You know what I'm talking about,' he pressed. 'And I'd like an explanation.' This time James stood up; he looked angry, but anger wasn't the only emotion on his face; something like desperation seemed to be smoothing into the features as well.

'Stop playing games with me, Merlin. What are you talking about?' He enunciated every word, his tone demanding and Merlin found himself wanting to tell the man, wanting to be able to dispel his fears. He needed an ally in James; he needed someone from Cyathia to be what Merlin had thought they were.

'I told Steven that I didn't want to do this anymore, and he told me that he has my mother and Gaius; that they were kidnapped from Ealdor.'

'What?' James asked, and the shock that resonated from him seemed to be genuine. 'Then you must tell Tiden. You must do it now.'

'It was Tiden's order,' Merlin told him. 'If I don't continue giving information, they're going to kill both of them.'

'Tiden would not…' he began, but then he turned away, pacing in agitation. There was uncertainty in him; something that Merlin had never associated with the man before.

'Well he has,' Merlin retorted. 'Answer me honestly: are you involved?'

'No, I am not!' he replied, turning and taking two steps to cover the distance between the two of them. 'I do not condone blackmail or violence against innocents. And neither does Tiden.'

'Then your ruler has failed you,' Merlin told him, his own anger beginning to rise at James refusal to believe him. 'Because his actions condone both.'

James' eyes burnt into his as the man remained where he was, but after a few seconds he moved back. He paced on the spot, his feet beginning to go one direction and then changing their mind and heading in another. Merlin could almost see the back and forth logic going on in his mind through the reactions of his body.

'You saw what he was like today in the talks,' Merlin began gently after a few seconds had lapsed. 'You saw how he treated Arthur.'

'He was finishing the talks; it is why we are here.'

'No, he wasn't finishing the talks; he was trying his best to finish Arthur. Was that part of your plan: to ruin the reputation of Camelot?'

'He is only trying to keep Cyathia safe; it is what we have been trying to do for years!'

'So this is what you thought would happen? This is what you planned together?' Merlin asked him pointedly. 'And they're planning something else;' he continued, 'something with the soldiers and knights. Was that part of your preparation with the King before you came to Camelot?'

'I have served Tiden for nearly twenty years,' he said, rounding on Merlin fiercely, but there was desperation in his voice. Whatever James made of the accusations, he wasn't finding it easy to dispel them. 'All he has ever wanted is for Cyathia to flourish.'

'Well now she can. Once Camelot's lost all trust and respect, no-one will join with her; Cyathia will be free to _flourish_. There'll be no problems with unity across the land.' James looked at him, his brow furrowed, but Merlin understood; he could hear the bitterness in his tone, the anger.

'I don't know what has happened to change your mind about Cyathia, but I can not believe that-'

'Well you need to!' Merlin interrupted. 'Tiden had fooled you. Perhaps he knew you would never agree with the plan, perhaps he knew that you would argue against it, but either way, he has left you out of his true intentions and used Steven to carry them out.'

'Steven has never held sway over Tiden,' James argued.

'Really? Then tell me why he has spent so much time in the King's company since arriving here. Tell me why I've been asked to report to him more than I've been asked to report to you.'

James fell silent, his brooding expression deepening. He stared absently into the fire and then returned to his chair by the desk. He sat, stooped over the desk, looking suddenly much less impressive than he always had done in the past.

'I'm sorry,' Merlin said quietly, moving closer. 'But I need you help.'

'I can't help you,' James told him without lifting his eyes.

'They've got my mother.'

'I can't help you.'

'James.'

'Merlin, I am bound to Tiden. I, too, took an oath of loyalty.'

'It doesn't hold you to anything more than an opinion,' Merlin argued. 'My loyalty mark is obsolete now.'

James laughed at that, a dark, bitter laugh that made Merlin uncomfortable.

'You should never have taken that oath. It binds you more than you know.'

'What are you talking about?'

'You need to leave now,' he answered hastily instead.

'What did you mean?' Unconsciously he lifted his hand to the top of his arm where the mark was hidden beneath his shirt.

'Get out, Merlin.' The man rose from his chair and took Merlin firmly by the arm, walking him back towards the door, but his face –which was usually so unreadable- was wrought with countless emotions that Merlin had never associated with the man: fear, uncertainty, disbelief.

'Tell me what you meant!' he demanded, his desperation mounting, but moments later he found himself outside James' room, facing a closed door. He considered using magic to go back in, but he was wary of speaking to James again; the man seemed on edge, close to letting loose a fury of pent up emotions.

'James,' he tried instead through the door, but he got no reply. Footsteps down the corridor caught his attention and he took that as his cue to leave. It would do no good to be found waiting outside the door of an advisor of King Tiden. He disappeared into the corridors of the castle, feeling frustration welling in him with every step he took away from James' room.

* * *

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	21. Chapter 21

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. As you can see, this is another relatively quick update. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 21**

Walking into Arthur and Gwen's chambers the following day, Merlin was surprised to see that the King was already dressed –partially at least. He had donned his breeches and a light shirt and was pacing the chambers, while Gwen slept on.

'You're up?' Merlin asked.

'We're going hunting,' Arthur replied, stopping his pacing to walk over to Merlin a frown on his face.

'What?'

'You heard me Merlin: we're going hunting, and I need you to go and get supplies. I don't expect to be back until late tonight.'

'What?'

'What is wrong with you this morning? You look half asleep,' Arthur pressed, and Merlin could see his irritation rising.

'I _am_ half asleep,' he retorted, suppressing a yawn –he was relatively sure that wouldn't make Arthur look any happier. Arthur sighed and turned away, but he pointed his finger back in Merlin's general direction.

'We'll need a crossbow, provisions for the day, and will you please make sure that you put your jacket on. I'm not spending the day listening to you whining because you're cold.'

'What?'

'Merlin!' His voice was so sharp that on the bed Gwen stirred. Arthur did have the decency to look slightly guilty, but when he turned back to Merlin, his stare was just as fierce. Merlin raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to repeat his question, but decided that wouldn't help. Instead he sighed heavily and tried to ignore the way his head was pounding from his sleepless night. He had lain awake for hours, staring at the walls of his room, thinking of his mother and where she could be.

He had considered sneaking down to the stables to see if Gwaine had left, but he didn't want to risk tipping off Steven's man –on the off chance that he actually was going out to take food to Gaius and his mother that night- to the fact that he was being watched. So it was that he had stayed in his room trying to work out what it was that Steven and Tiden were doing, how to convince James of their treachery and what the man had meant when he spoke about how the loyalty oath bound him.

He had planned to try speaking to James again today in between doing jobs for Arthur, and he had been intending to speak to Peter, who had been in the stables last night to see Gwaine off and to watch for Steven's henchman. Hunting all day didn't seem like a way to find out more information.

'I don't think killing innocent animals is the best way to spend a day,' Merlin told him.

'Well, lucky for you, you won't be doing the shooting. Besides I'll be selective. The unicorn incident was bad enough.'

'What?'

'Doesn't matter. I want to leave soon.'

'Arthur, I really don't think I'll be any good at hunting.'

'I _know_ you won't be any good at hunting,' Arthur nodded, 'but we're still going.'

'I've got quite a lot of things to-'

'I'm relieving you of all your chores.'

'What about the talks?' Merlin tried, realising that he was getting nowhere and trying to deflect Arthur's annoyance.

'You heard what I said yesterday: everyone has two days.'

'Yes, but shouldn't you stay in Camelot?' Merlin pointed out. Arthur looked at him incredulously.

'I know that you haven't got all your memories yet, but I trust you remember that I'm the King.'

'Amongst other things,' Merlin told him challengingly.

'Well at least you've got your sense of humour back,' Arthur told him. 'I'll meet you in the stables in an hour.' With that, he turned and disappeared from his chambers, leaving Merlin staring after him, trying not to scream in frustration; he didn't want to wake Gwen up. Instead, he settled for selecting a variety of clothes for the trip that instinct told him Arthur didn't like.

* * *

Arthur could honestly say that he had never sought out Merlin's company for long periods of time in the past. Yes, he admitted that he would sometimes go and find Merlin in order to annoy him or tell him off for something, but he had never decided to go somewhere with Merlin just for the sake of spending time with him. In part, that may have been due to the fact that wherever he went, Merlin was normally there anyway; his terrible loneliness when he thought Merlin was dead also seemed to strengthen that theory.

But whatever the case, Arthur was finding this hunting trip somewhat difficult because he knew his reasons behind it, and hunting wasn't one of the top ones. Yes, hunting was giving him chance to focus on something other than his destroyed talks –even if Merlin's lack of subtlety meant that no actual animals had found themselves impaled by his crossbow- but he knew that he was only giving the activity half of his attention.

The truth was that he _had_ wanted to spend time with Merlin. He wasn't sure why he'd suddenly felt the urge to. All he knew was that this current Merlin –the one who had shown so many signs of coming back to them all for good- was effortlessly pulling away. He had realised that when he awoke that morning; realised that over the past few days Merlin spoke less, spent less time in Arthur's company and looked for reasons to be elsewhere. And since finding out that the talks were taking place because of him, Merlin seemed to have withdrawn completely.

And Arthur refused to accept it. He would not allow Merlin to shrink back into a stranger; not when he had taken so many steps towards being a friend once more. With that thought in mind, Arthur had got dressed and waited for Merlin to appear. The hunting trip was merely a front for his true plans: he would ask Merlin what was wrong, find out what it was that was suddenly bothering him and have another go at prompting the man's memories.

Six hours into their hunt, and all of those plans had yet to come to fruition. He was doing his very best on the memory front: though Merlin didn't know it, the two of them had spent the last few hours revisiting places where significant things had happened to them. An hour ago they had passed the place where Merlin had been hit in the chest with a mace, not far from the valley of the fallen kings; before that they had walked along part of the route they had taken on their quest for the cup of life and now they were in practically the exact spot where Arthur had shot the unicorn.

Nothing seemed to have triggered any memories in Merlin, and Arthur was fast losing hope. Surely something had to be getting past the barriers that Merlin's mind had said up. Looking at him now, though, Arthur wondered exactly what was going through the man's head. He was preoccupied; that much was obvious. Arthur had been expecting his clumsiness and uncanny ability to scare away game, but this was an entirely different state of distraction. He would stare off into the distance for minutes at time; his eyes unfocussed and stormy. Or if he wasn't doing that, he would mutter to himself and pace in different directions, paying no attention to anything Arthur was doing. It was beginning to irritate him.

'What is wrong with you today?' he asked when Merlin dropped the beating stick he was carrying for the third time in as many minutes.

'What?' Merlin asked. He looked a little startled at the sound of Arthur's voice; he seemed to have forgotten that he wasn't alone.

'I'll be the first to admit that you're useless at hunting, but this is dire, even for you.'

'Well maybe I should head back.'

'Am I keeping you from something?' Arthur asked him with a roll of the eyes.

'Apart from a warm room with good food?' Merlin asked him pointedly, but the sarcasm was heavier than usual.

'Have I…?' Arthur stopped, hardly able to believe that he was going to ask the question. 'Have I done something to upset you?' He swallowed down the proud comments of refute that rose up as the words left his mouth. Just this once, he'd place himself at Merlin's mercy in assessing the morality of his actions. Besides, Merlin always opened up more when Arthur did.

'What?' Merlin asked. 'No, you haven't done anything.' He seemed genuinely appalled at the idea, which only served to confuse Arthur more.

'Then what's wrong? You're barely here. I've never seen you so distracted.'

'I just have a lot to think about.'

'Like what?'

'A past I can't remember,' he shrugged. 'A future that I can't see.'

'Guinevere said you were going to stay,' Arthur replied, before inwardly reprimanding himself; he hadn't wanted Merlin to know that Guinevere had filled him in on their conversation. Where he stood, Merlin turned away slightly.

'I said I would if you wanted me to.'

'Surely you understand by now, Merlin.'

There was a long pause. Merlin kept his head down, but Arthur could see some sort of battle going on in him. He was going to say something else, when suddenly Merlin spoke again, his head high now.

'Understand what? That I'm your most loyal servant and friend?' Arthur frowned in confusion. The bitterness in the way he said it was so foreign and so cynical that it made him angry.

'Don't say that like it's so ridiculous!'

Merlin shook his head and took several deep breaths. Arthur felt his irritation rise: what was wrong with the man?

'Why did you say that? Why would you?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Don't think you can get out of this one, Merlin. I want to know what's wrong. I don't claim to understand what you're going through, but I know you well enough to know when something is bothering you.'

'Really?' Merlin asked. 'Like you've known me so well in the past?'

'What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don't even remember the past.' Instantly, Arthur regretted his words, but he didn't take them back. His pride wouldn't let him.

Again Merlin shook his head, but this time, instead of replying, he picked up his beater stick, shouldered the pack that he had laid down on the floor and headed back the way they had come.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm going back to Camelot.'

Arthur stared after him for several seconds, mouth agape. What the hell was wrong with him? Merlin very rarely threw tantrums and the few times he did, Arthur knew that it was something stupid he'd done that caused them –though he'd never admit that. But this time… This time, he had absolutely no idea what he'd done wrong. Merlin had just said himself that Arthur hadn't done anything to upset him. He felt his irritation fledge into anger. Was that what Merlin was trying to do? Make him angry? If that was his plan it was working beautifully.

Arthur chased after him and placed his hand heavily on Merlin's shoulder, spinning him round as he did. The momentum knocked Merlin off balance slightly, but he caught himself and then took a few stumbling steps away from Arthur. Once he was an arm's length back, he remained still. Arthur studied his face, saw the resigned determination in Merlin's eyes. What was he doing?

'What did you mean, just then?'

'I meant I'm going back to Camelot.'

'No,' Arthur said through gritted teeth, 'you know what I'm talking about.' Merlin shook his head and began to turn away, but once again Arthur spun him back round. 'Enough, Merlin! Tell me what you meant. 'You're saying I don't know you?'

'You're a King. Why would you know your servant?'

Arthur clenched his fists at his side. That was unfair and Merlin knew it. He knew better than anyone –memories or not- that he wasn't just a servant. And why would he say that anyway? Nothing in the way he was acting seemed normal, nothing in him reminded Arthur of his friend and servant. He said nothing for several seconds, in which time Merlin took several more steps backwards.

'I'm going back to Camelot.'

'Assuming you remember the way,' Arthur called after him, making no effort to hide the bitterness in his tone.

* * *

Merlin walked quickly though the dense undergrowth and thick-set trees heading back in the direction that he had come. No, he may not remember the way back to Camelot, but his sense of direction was excellent and he remembered the way they had travelled that morning. His whole body was still trembling from the exchange that had taken place only a few minutes earlier and he fought to hold back tears so that Arthur –who he knew was following quite closely behind, though he couldn't see him- wouldn't be able to see them if he decided to catch up. Merlin doubted he would, however.

He took a shuddering breath and tried not to think of what he had said. He had done it for the right reasons, but he knew that he had hurt Arthur and he had done enough of that already, whether the King knew it or not.

His reasons had been varied, but their goal was to ensure the future safety of Arthur and Camelot. And one thing that had to happen for that to be assured was that Merlin had to actually _be _in Camelot. Throughout the entire day, all he had thought about was Tiden's plan, Elyan keeping an eye on Steven's men and Gwaine's departure from the city late last night. And the more he thought about those things, the more he felt his desperation to be back there rise inside himself. He had known that he had to get back, and the only way he was going to be able to do that without raising questions was to argue with Arthur and then walk off. He didn't know if he'd done similar things in the past –Arthur's response suggested that he hadn't- but either way, it had worked.

But then as he had stood there arguing, saying things that he knew would make Arthur angry, he had felt more reasons for the confrontation slipping into his mind. If he could force Arthur to reconsider his trust in his friend, if he could make the King question his motives and actions, then surely –being the ruler that he was- Arthur would become suspicious, he would begin to investigate events himself. If Arthur became wary of Cyathia –more so than he already was- through Merlin's past connection with the place, then perhaps Tiden and Steven's plan would be spotted before it could take hold. It was a vain hope, Merlin knew, but he had been subtle enough that if it did work, he could claim innocence fairly easily. And on top of that, making Arthur question him meant that King was unlikely to share his plans for the final meeting of the talks quite so readily with Merlin. And if Arthur told him nothing, then Merlin had nothing to report back to Tiden.

Those thoughts had forced him on, even when he felt his mind yelling at him not to continue, but to stop and apologise to Arthur and assure him that he had a friend and servant in Merlin, for as long as the honour was extended to him. And then Arthur had become angry, and Merlin had felt an inexplicable peace settle on him at the knowledge. Arthur was angry with him, as he should be for everything that Merlin had done in sabotaging the talks and betraying his trust. It felt good to have somebody turn on him, like he was getting what he deserved. And maybe Arthur's anger wasn't for the reasons that Merlin wanted, but it was enough for now to feel that he wasn't getting away with it, that he was getting –at least in part- what he deserved.

* * *

Arthur stormed into his quarters, making Guinevere jump from where she sat at the table, reading through the research parchments that Arthur had been using for the talks.

'Sorry,' he muttered as he slammed the door behind himself and threw himself down on the chair opposite her. Wide eyed with worry, Guinevere got up and sat beside him.

'What is it?'

'Merlin.'

'What about him?'

'I don't know,' Arthur blustered. 'I don't have a clue what happened. One minute he's so distracted a wolf could attack him and he wouldn't notice and the next he's spouting rubbish about being just a servant and no-one knowing him and then walking back to Camelot.'

'What?'

'I know!' Arthur told her emphatically. 'He just walked off. Walked all the way back to Camelot without saying anything.'

'Are you sure he got back safely?' she asked.

'He's fine. I followed him. _I'd_ sooner kill him than let a pack of bandits have the pleasure.'

'Arthur,' she reprimanded gently.

'I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just thought after what he said to you last night and with everything that's happened…I just expected him to be Merlin. But that person…' he shook his head. 'There's something not right.'

'He's struggling Arthur. I can't imagine what it's like to not know who you are.'

'No, it's more than that.'

'Arthur.'

'It is. I know Merlin. You know him. He doesn't seek out confrontation; he will do anything to avoid a fight.'

'He tried to punch you when he met you,' Gwen pointed out. 'I was watching.'

'But he was responding to an injustice. I was being a prat. Besides, at first he just tried to tell me to stop it; he called me his friend.'

'But think back over your time together,' Guinevere pressed, 'Merlin is the only person that argues with you.' Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. 'We may argue from time to time,' she told him wryly, 'but you argue a lot more with Merlin. My point is: Merlin will confront you on things.'

'Yes, when he's responding to something that he thinks is wrong,' Arthur pressed. 'That's what I mean: Merlin will argue to make a stand, he won't argue for the sake of arguing, that's never been his way, right from the start.'

'So perhaps he disagreed with something you were saying.'

'No. I've been over what was said a hundred times on the way back: nothing I said was something that would attack his sense of morality. If anything, I was being open. In the past, that's when Merlin's been most willing to listen and talk.'

'Maybe the openness scared him.'

'What scares Merlin, Guinevere?' Arthur asked sadly. 'You know as well as I do that he is anything but a coward.'

She moved round to face him a sudden revelation on her face that Arthur struggled to fathom. She laid a hand on his.

'What is it?' he asked urgently.

'Merlin is no coward, I agree,' she nodded. 'But he does get scared.'

'If he does, I have never seen it,' Arthur told her. He thought back over the years. The Dorocha had scared Merlin, but then, they had scared everyone. And sometimes he was fearful going into battle, but he always went. He had never known Merlin to let fear control him or speak for him

He voiced those thoughts to Guinevere. She nodded sadly, but her expression didn't change.

'What is it?'

'I have seen fear control Merlin before. I have seen his desperation because he is afraid. Many of us have.'

'I haven't,' Arthur replied quietly, feeling a sense of detachment; had he missed something so obvious?

'You wouldn't have,' Guinevere pressed gently. She shifted so that she was facing him completely. 'Arthur, the only time Merlin is fearful, truly fearful, is when you, or other people he loves, are in danger. Most of the time it's you. But think, Arthur,' she told him more firmly. 'You _have_ seen that in him. Surely you remember when Gaius was accused of sorcery.'

As soon as she said it, Arthur understood what she meant. How could he have forgotten? He remembered hauling Merlin out of the council chambers as he attempted to attack the witchfinder; he had even tried to throw a punch at Arthur in his desperation. Yes, perhaps Arthur had seen Merlin scared before. Terrified even. It had been the same when Gaius had been kidnapped, although Arthur's handling of the situation had kept Merlin at a distance. And when Guinevere had been accused of sorcery, Merlin had been frightened and desperate enough to implicate himself instead.

'What are you saying?' Arthur asked, as he realised the truth in her words.

'I'm saying that maybe Merlin's reaction was born of fear and if Merlin is only scared when people he cares about are in danger…' She left the thought hanging in the air and Arthur felt a swell of cold engulf him.

'Somebody's in danger, or at least he knows something. But then why wouldn't he tell me?' Arthur asked.

'We don't know that is definitely the case. It's just one theory.' Arthur heard what she was saying, but they didn't make him question his conclusion. He couldn't yet fathom how things slotted into place, but something within him felt that they would.

And so his mind slipped to the other question that he had voiced: why wouldn't Merlin tell him? There were two reasons why people lied: one, to protect themselves; two, to protect others. Never, in all the time Arthur had known Merlin, had he shown any inclination towards self-preservation. If he was hiding something, he was protecting someone, and if that was the case, then Arthur was going to have to tread very carefully. He turned to Guinevere, kissed her and then placed his hands on her arms.

'I love you,' he whispered, before heading out of his chambers in search of Leon.

* * *

By the time Merlin got back to Camelot it was late evening. The town had been plunged into darkness and the streets were quiet. He quickly wound his way between the quiet homesteads and made his way to the inn where Peter was staying. He was desperate to know whether Gwaine had gotten off alright the previous night and whether he had had someone to follow. He was also keen to speak to Elyan to see if he had found out anything else about Steven's men, but he was unsure of exactly how to contact the knight without having to ask lots of questions. Deciding he would focus on that task tomorrow morning, Merlin nodded to the landlord and headed up to Peter's room. He was surprised to find that it was empty. The bed was neatly made and there were no signs that Peter had been there for several hours.

Frustrated at yet another delay, Merlin quickly headed down to the stables, jogging through the quiet streets and around the back of the royal stables until he reached the makeshift one where Cyathia's horses were being kept. Looking down at the muddy ground, he felt his elation rise as he noticed, here and there, the marked hoof prints of Torrent's shoes. Gwaine had had someone to follow! Merlin felt a new confidence rise in him. Gwaine would find Gauis and his mother. Merlin would be free to stay in Camelot. With a new lightness, he approached the stable door and caught sight of a figure seeing to the horses for the night.

'Peter,' he called, but when the boy turned it wasn't Peter; it was another stable hand, one whose name Merlin didn't know. 'Sorry,' he said, coming to a stop just inside the stable door. He glanced around and saw that Torrent was in his stable, but that Zephyr's was empty. 'I was looking for Peter.'

'Sorry, only me. But Peter was looking for you earlier. Said to tell you to come and find him as soon as you could.'

'When was this?' Merlin asked, feeling relief flood through him; perhaps Peter had found out something that they could actually use.

'This afternoon sometime. A few hours ago, anyway.'

'Where is he now?'

'I don't know. Haven't seen him since then,' the boy shrugged. 'He missed his shift earlier.'

In an instant, all the hope that Merlin had felt building up inside turned to ice.

'What?' he asked slowly.

'He was meant to feed the horses this evening, but he never showed. It's why I'm here. I've never known him to miss a shift,' the boy shrugged.

Frantically, Merlin scanned the room, looking for some clue, some evidence, as to what might possibly have held Peter up. He needed a rational explanation, but the clawing fear allowed him little hope. He had a terrible feeling that Peter's luck had run out.

Without another word to the clearly confused stable hand, Merlin turned and ran back to his quarters. Peter had been searching for him, had wanted to tell him something; quite possibly something that would give them a clearer idea of what Steven and Tiden were doing. If that were the case, he would have tried Merlin's chambers several times throughout the course of the day. There was no sign of any disruption in the inn or in the stables, which meant…

Merlin threw open the door to his quarters and stopped in horror at what he saw. On one side of the room, the table was at strange angle, while the vials and plates and food that Merlin had stacked on it this morning in an attempt to tidy up were scattered and smashed about the floor. There had been a scuffle, a fight of some sort. But what really drew Merlin's attention was the dark stain on the floor; a large dark stain.

In an instant Merlin felt his cage close in around him once more as terrible fear for Peter drew the bolt across.

* * *

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	22. Chapter 22

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Another early update! I'd love to tell you that this means I've finished the story so can post more regularly, but it doesn't. I'm just very excited about the next few chapters and can't wait to see what you think of them. This one in particular was one I really enjoyed writing!

Thank you so much for the reviews! I always love reading them, and they're so encouraging!

One more thing before I shut up. I think I made an estimate on how many chapters were left a while back, and I just wanted to say that it was wrong! I reckon we're looking at thirty, give or take a couple either way. So still a way to go yet, but we're definitely heading to the end!

Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 22**

For several long minutes, Merlin found himself unable to move, but even as his body remained still, his mind was working furiously to try and find a way –any way- out of the situation he now found himself in. But anger made it hard for him to think straight. Where was Peter? What had they done to him? What had he found out that had caused them to snatch him away so violently? Merlin cursed himself for not refusing to go on the hunting trip that morning. He should have been here, should have done anything he could to stay in Camelot, no matter how much Arthur insisted otherwise. He looked down at the blood again and felt sick. How hurt was he?

The questions circled his mind until he felt the room begin to spin. He forced his eyes closed, took several deep breaths and then looked up again. He would achieve nothing by standing here panicking. He had to do something. But what? Now they had even more leverage over him. Yes, by now Gwaine may have found his mother and Gaius, and the fact that Torrent was in the stables, while Zephyr was still gone, caused him to hope that that really was the case, but if they had Peter, if they could use him to blackmail Merlin, then he was just as trapped as he had been before. More so, even, because Peter was so close. All it would take was one false slip from Merlin and Steven could have the boy killed within minutes. No-one would notice one missing stablehand in amongst the hundreds of visitors in Camelot.

He had to find Peter. He had to work out where they were keeping him and get him to safety. But how? The only people who likely knew where he was being kept were the two people that he wanted to remain unaware of his intentions. Perhaps if he went and found Elyan… but even then, they would have no idea where to start looking, and this extra blackmail might make the knight rethink his not-telling-Arthur stance.

No, if this was to be done, then Merlin had to do it himself. And first, that meant finding out where Peter was being held.

He crept through the corridors of Camelot as the night deepened. Most of the castle was asleep by now, or at least preparing to be very soon, but Merlin felt no such weariness. His mind was focussed, his goal was clear; it was only a matter of remaining hidden. He moved forward in the shadows, eluding the few people that he crossed paths with by doubling back into empty corridors, or taking advantage of any available hiding places.

When he reached Tiden's corridors however, he ground to a halt. What was he supposed to do now? He peered carefully around the corner to find that there were no guards on the doors. Merlin didn't know whether that was usual for Tiden, or not -he hadn't been to the King's chambers in days in an effort to keep his motives unquestioned- but either way, it meant that he could probably gain access to the King's room. But what then? The man was hardly going to have a map of where Peter was being kept stashed away in his room.

Not knowing what else to do, however, Merlin eased himself forward. He rested an ear against the door, listening for any sounds, but there was nothing. Surely the King wouldn't be asleep yet; not if he had apprehended someone who he saw as a traitor. The room had to be empty. As quietly as he could, Merlin tried the handle and then, on finding it locked, whispered the spell he had used on James' room before. He cautiously moved into the room, realising quickly that it was deserted, but as he did, he heard several sets of heavy footsteps down the corridor. His heart raced as he recognised Steven's voice distantly.

With barely concealed panic, Merlin shut the door behind himself and used magic to lock it before frantically looking around the room. He had to hide. If they found him in here…

His limited time meant that hiding under the bed was the only real option; anywhere else was too vulnerable. He knelt to the floor and scrambled under the thin gap, trying to ignore the voice in his head that said this was a stupid place to hide. But even as the thought crossed his mind, tiny flashes of memories of hiding under beds assaulted him; something else he had done before. He was shocked, though, at the ease with which the memories re-emerged; there had barely been a trigger.

The thought was quickly dispelled from his mind, however, as the door to Tiden's chambers was unlocked and four pairs of feet walked in. Tiden's dismissal of two of them showed that the extra men were guards, which left only him and Steven. James, Merlin was pleased to see, was nowhere in sight. He only hoped that meant his Cyathian mentor really wasn't involved.

'How long ago?' Tiden asked. He seemed on edge, nervous, something that Merlin had never associated with the man.

'According to Elex, he arrived back, followed by Arthur, less than half an hour ago.' Merlin barely dared to breathe. They were talking about him.

'They didn't return together?'

'There were only a few minutes between their arrivals.'

There was a short pause and Merlin hoped that the King wouldn't look too deeply into their staggered arrivals; it would do no good for Tiden to realise that Merlin was attempting to drive a wedge between himself and Arthur.

'Then he will have seen the evidence of the stablehand's capture?'

'If not yet, then very shortly. Everything was left as you requested. Shall I go and find him?'

'Merlin is not our concern at the moment,' the King began firmly, as he paced across the room in agitation. 'He'll come and find us. He is trapped, desperate and angry. He will come and plead for the boy's life, or at the very least demand to know what we have done to him. No,' Tiden continued, and his words were filled with threat, 'it is James that we must find.'

'My Lord, I wounded him myself; he will not last more than a few hours.'

'All he needs is a few moments with anyone loyal to Camelot and all is lost,' Tiden retorted. 'I want him found and I want him silenced for good!'

From where he lay under the bed, Merlin was hard pressed to contain his shock. What had happened for the King to have turned so violently against James? What had he missed while he was out hunting? He felt his frustration well up again, but he pushed it down. He could not miss what was being said.

'It would my pleasure, Sire, but are you sure you don't want him alive? He will be of use later.'

'It is not worth the risk. He and the stable hand found out about our plans. The boy is easy to control: his magical abilities are pitiful and he is weak. But James… His loyalties have turned, I sense that through the oath mark, and he needs to be removed. We have an ample replacement for him anyway.'

'Then I will send more men to the woods. He headed east out of the city-'

'He will try to return. Speaking to Merlin, or perhaps even Arthur, will be his plan,' Tiden said gravely.

'We will stop him, my Lord. He will not get far, injured as he is.'

'I want to know the moment you find him.'

'Yes, Sire.' With that Steven disappeared out of the room, leaving Merlin alone with King Tiden. He absorbed the information from the conversation quickly, turning it over in his mind. Both James and Peter had discovered the plans? Surely that had to mean they had been together. Merlin felt a flood of relief wash through him. James had listened to him after all; he had evidently done his own searching. But now both he and Peter were in trouble.

Suddenly, Merlin felt torn. He wanted to help Peter, he wanted to save him, but he still had no idea where the boy was. But James…he knew roughly where the man was and if he could find him then he would know what Tiden and Steven were planning; he would be able to stop them. Merlin closed his eyes, saw Peter's face rising up in his mind's eye, and silently whispered an apology to him, biting down on his lip to stop his emotions from spilling over. He would find Peter, he made a promise to himself that he would, but for now, he had to find out what Tiden's plans were.

Now all he had to do was get out of the King's room without being seen.

* * *

Arthur slipped into bed and wrapped an arm around Guinevere, kissing her gently. She turned with a contented sigh, her eyes opening slowly.

'Where did you go?' she asked him sleepily. 'Did you speak to Merlin?'

'No,' he whispered. 'I spoke to Leon. He's going to set up a watch for Merlin. Find out who it is he's trying to protect.'

'Arthur,' she said, more awake now as she sat up.

'I know it's not ideal.'

'You're spying on him? Why?'

'No, I'm not…' he sighed. 'I'm not spying on him. I just want to make sure he's alright.'

'But putting a watch on him? If he realises…'

'He won't know,' Arthur told her gently. 'I just want to find out what's wrong and he won't tell me himself.'

There was a long silence. Guinevere watched him uncertainly, her eyes searching his as she absorbed the information. Eventually, she lay back down, but her face was still turned towards him.

'Do you trust him?' she whispered, sadness in every word. Arthur swallowed heavily and didn't meet her eyes for several seconds. What could he say to that?

If she had asked him before all this, then his answer would have been an immediate yes, even if it was disguised by some scathing comments or flippant remark. Merlin had had his unfailing trust at all times, even when he did things that Arthur didn't understand, or disappeared for days on end, or evidently lied his way out of a situation, Arthur had still trusted him without a second thought because he was Merlin and everything he did was rooted in his loyalty to his King. Arthur had known this, even if he didn't understand it, and so he had never once had doubts about Merlin.

But now he was dealing with a Merlin who didn't remember that loyalty, not really, and who didn't have his history in Camelot to draw upon when making decisions and acting on them. He was acting strangely; he was giving Arthur no answers and he was slowly drawing away from the people who he should have been closest to. And it scared Arthur; it worried him; it made him doubt the one person who he had never doubted in the past.

'I trust the Merlin I know,' Arthur replied slowly, caressing her cheek with his hand. She put her own over it and kissed his palm. 'But he's not that Merlin yet. I just want to help him and ensure that he isn't caught in something that he can't get out of.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know,' he shrugged, leaning down and kissing her on the lips. 'Which is why I need to find out.'

Guinevere's reservations were still clear, just as his own were more than evident, but she nodded, kissed his hand once more and then turned over to sleep. Arthur lay back down beside her and wrapped an arm around her stomach, pulling her close and breathing her in.

But while his wife quickly slipped into dreams, Arthur found that sleep evaded him. Thoughts of Merlin kept him awake; thoughts of what he was trapped in. He hoped that he was wrong, that Merlin's strange behaviour was nothing more than Merlin's strangeness –he was nothing if not odd- but Guinevere's words from earlier about what scared Merlin, refused to leave Arthur. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that she was right and the more he became convinced that Merlin had something to hide.

What that was exactly, Arthur wasn't sure and it was only with reluctance that he began to consider the numerous possibilities. His first thought had been that perhaps Merlin was actually intending to return to Cyathia after all; his actions, then, made sense. He was trying to protect Arthur emotionally. Though Arthur had never said it, Merlin must know that the King wanted him to stay, that he would be devastated by the news that he wouldn't. Arthur hated to admit that, even if it was only in his head, but in the interests of trying to get to the bottom of Merlin's predicament, he had to be honest with himself. Up until now, he had tried not to picture Merlin returning to Cyathia, tried not to imagine saying farewell to Tiden and seeing Merlin at his side, but he did now, as he lay in bed, and couldn't stop the rush of sadness at the thought. Yes, Merlin would want to protect him from that.

But though his first theory held firmly to the conviction that Merlin was still the person he had always been, the other theories that he had to consider were darker and much harder for Arthur to entertain. He wondered whether Merlin had gotten in to some sort of trouble in Cyathia –he wouldn't put it past him- and someone was giving him a difficult time now. He certainly seemed on edge and wary, but of what, Arthur could not begin to guess. Or perhaps since coming to Camelot he had fallen out with someone, either from Camelot or Cyathia, and was struggling to mend the rift. Arthur was less convinced by this idea: Merlin was a diplomat and peace maker at heart; his desire was always to smooth things over and if he set his mind to that, he usually managed it.

His next thought was one which settled a cold weight in his stomach. Perhaps someone was forcing Merlin back to Cyathia, perhaps they were holding something over him. Arthur wasn't sure about this theory either, if he was honest. Although he valued Merlin highly, he doubted that anyone from Cyathia would have been so in need of him that they would force him to return to their land. He was, after all, just Merlin, and even if his servant skills were far better than Arthur had known, he wasn't exactly irreplaceable from that point of view. Indeed, Arthur's need of Merlin stemmed in no way from his skills as an employee: they were entirely rooted in his friendship, and while Merlin could make friends quickly, Arthur doubted that in the six weeks he had been in Cyathia, he would have formed such a strong connection with someone.

And that was where his theories became more far-reaching and he considered them only for the sake of covering all possibilities: the thought that somehow Merlin was working against Arthur or that he was in a plot with Tiden or one of the other monarchs. Even thinking it made Arthur feel like he was betraying Merlin. Never, in all the years of knowing Merlin –even right at the beginning-, had Arthur ever had cause to doubt Merlin's loyalty. He had always been trustworthy, from the moment he set foot in Camelot, which meant that whatever loyalty he felt towards Arthur had been there from the very beginning and, by that logic, should still be in him now. And with all the returned memories that Merlin had, that loyalty should be set in stone by now.

No, it was not Merlin's loyalty that Arthur was questioning -that was as sure as the sun rising- it was a hidden predicament or worry in Merlin that Arthur was basing his concerns on. He just had to find out what it was. That was where Leon and the knights came in. They would be able to tell him if anything was amiss.

Arthur felt his eyes begin to drift closed at the reassurance of that thought: as soon as he understood what was wrong with Merlin, everything would work out.

* * *

As it turned out, getting out of Tiden's room was more straightforward than Merlin had dared to hope. The King wandered his room in agitation for several minutes, but then settled himself on a chair where Merlin could easily see him. He looked worried, which only caused Merlin to hope more. Tiden was nothing if not sure of himself; whatever his plan was, he was beginning to worry about it, which only convinced Merlin that whatever James knew would be enough to put it to an end.

But he still had to get out of the room. He had gone through several options: making a run for it, waiting until Tiden fell asleep, attacking Tiden, climbing out of the window. In the end, he combined three of those ideas. The first was attacking Tiden. He been considering different spells that could achieve that result when a particular memory had returned to him clearly and with very little prompting. He had been desperately going over his limited list of spells that James had taught him and those that he had studied in Cyathia, when, unbidden, he found strange words and situations flooding back to him through his memories. There were several times when he had used a spell, or seen others use a spell, to render a person unconscious or asleep.

With a strange confidence born from the realisation that he had done this before, Merlin whispered the remembered words, pouring a huge amount of magic into them in case Tiden had some sort of magical protection on him and watched as the King's head lolled forwards and he slumped heavily against the arm of the chair. Quickly, Merlin slipped out from his hiding place and then inspected the King, his hands outstretched just in case the man was feigning, but Tiden made no move. That done, Merlin headed for the door and pressed his ear against it. Outside, he could hear the telltale rustle of chainmail. The soldiers were there. It wasn't that Merlin didn't believe he could take them on; he knew that his magic would be more than a match, but attacking two guards would be too conspicuous; he couldn't afford to have anyone hear him.

He had turned full circle in the room and then seen the window. Another sweep of the room had offered him with no alternative and so, shaking his head and muttering to himself about the stupidity of what he was about to do, Merlin walked to the window and peered out. Just below, no more than a couple of metres, there was a small ledge, just about big enough to put his feet on. Glancing along the wall he spotted a corner, created by one of the towers of the castle meeting the main wall. Taking several deep breaths and trying not to think of the plummet to the hard ground below, Merlin slowly –achingly slowly- climbed out of the window and eased himself onto the ledge. He closed his eyes and pressed himself against the wall for several seconds, before beginning to inch his way along. Once again, he was struck with familiarity. He had scaled walls before, though he remembered quite clearly that he hadn't been any more comfortable with doing so in the past. The light from Tiden's room was limited and so Merlin trusted to his senses, feeling his way along the ridge and testing each section of it carefully, before using the indents in the corner of the tower to climb to the ground. The whole thing could not have taken more than five minutes, but by the time his feet touched the floor, Merlin felt like he hadn't been on the ground for hours. He put the thought aside however and turned to look at where he was. He was close to the north gate if his memory served him correctly, which, he realised with shock, it was beginning to do. Unbidden, images of areas in Camelot that he had not been to since arriving with the Cyathians rose in his mind. The castle felt familiar: its layout was clearer to him than it had been through the entire visit. He knew where he was, and he knew where he had to get to.

A few minor distractions for the guards and several minutes of hiding in shadows, and Merlin found himself outside the walls of the city, running as fast as he could towards the eastern woods. He had to reach James before Steven did if he wanted any chance of returning to the same Camelot as the one that was quickly resurfacing in his memory.

The sounds in the eastern wood constantly shifted and changed, making Merlin feel at all times like he was being watched. It was stupid, however; he knew that Steven and his men had a head start on him; if anything he would be the one sneaking up on them.

The night was a cloudy one and the air cool. Merlin remembered Arthur telling him to make sure that he had his jacket with him on the hunt and he was glad that the King had suggested it; the chill of the breeze was numbing and Merlin could afford no such distractions. As he moved deeper into the woods, away from what little moonlight filtered through the clouds, Merlin found his sight becoming more and more obsolete. He could see nothing and he was loathe to produce any sort of light source in case Steven caught him. Instead, he focussed on his magic, allowing it to reach out into his surroundings and trusting it to guide him. He had done nothing like this since waking up after his accident, but he had feeling that actions such as this had been instinctual in the past. The thought was only confirmed as he suddenly, without even knowing what he was doing, found his senses reaching forward, skirting around trees and down slopes in the woods, too fast almost for him to comprehend, before suddenly stopping at a fallen tree. The strange vision was not confined to the darkness of the woods and Merlin saw clear stains of blood on the log. James had rested there.

Merlin blinked and his vision was plunged back into darkness. He staggered slightly from the onslaught of images, but somewhere in his mind he understood what his magic had instinctually done. It had responded to the desire in him to find James and found the path forward, leading him on to his next clue. Hope surged through him; as long as James could remain undetected by Steven for a bit longer, Merlin would get to him first. Throwing aside all his feelings and allowing his magic to guide him in a way he had never experienced before –not that he could remember- Merlin ran through the darkness, his feet never faltering.

When he did find James, Merlin was unprepared for what he saw. He had raced through the woods for nearly two hours. On more than one occasion, he had caught sight of a search light and had quickly distracted their attention, using magical interference. Once, he had nearly stumbled into Steven as he crept past another man that he had spotted, but his magic had screamed a warning at him and froze him in place until he was safe again.

When his magic had finally revealed the last leg of his path, Merlin had been too preoccupied to pay much attention to the picture of James he was presented with. So it was that when he finally fell to the ground beside the man, he could not help but flinch at the terrible paleness of his skin –which stood out even in the dark night- and the terrible rasping of his breath. The man turned suddenly as he felt someone appear beside him, his hand raised in attack, but Merlin grasped it quickly and held it tight.

'It's me,' he whispered. 'It's Merlin.'

'Merlin?' Merlin had to lean closer, so quiet was the man's voice, even with only the echo of leaves around them. The man blinked several times, his focus trying to fix on Merlin's face, and Merlin could not help but notice the slice across the man's chest; his clothes were wet to touch and Merlin knew his hand would come away red if he could see the colour clearly. Merlin felt his hands begin to tremble as panic encased him.

'James. What can I do? Tell me a spell.'

'Inflicted by magic…' he breathed, struggling over each word. '…No help.'

'No, I can,' Merlin argued. 'I'm strong. I know I am. I don't remember, but I know that I'm strong.'

'They'll use it.'

'What?'

'You're strength.'

'What do you mean?'

In the distance Merlin saw a light splinter through the boughs of trees. He looked around frantically.

'I need to get you out of here,' he said. He shifted his weight and then tried to pull James up, but the man shook his head and winced in pain.

'No, there's no time.' He breathed heavily, as if gathering his strength. 'Listen…'

'But I need-'

'No…' he man gasped. 'Listen… you must listen.' The desperation in the man's tone stopped Merlin's protests, but as he knelt down once more, he felt an inevitability settle across the scene. Tears pricked at his eyes and he felt his shoulders begin to shake.

'I'm listening,' he murmured, even as the light moved forward in the distance.

'You were right,' James began. 'I didn't know…I didn't realise. He has twisted our goal…made it into a bloodshed. He protects Cyathia at too high a cost.' As Merlin held James in his arms, the man began to choke, a gentle cough escaping, and then his back arched several times in quick succession. Merlin closed his eyes and bowed his head closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around the man.

'What is his plan?' Merlin whispered, when James expression deepened into a frown, like he was lost in his own dark thoughts.

'His plan…his plan. Peter was…he was watching them…they saw us…Peter ran to find you.' Merlin could imagine it. Peter running to his room, desperate to let Merlin know and then realising that he wasn't there. 'I held them off,' James continued. 'Steven…' he gestured to the slash across his chest. 'But we…we heard.' He became agitated and Merlin felt tears trickle down his face as he tried to soothe the man, whispering assurances to him. This was not what James was like. The man was strong, focussed, calm. He could always assess a situation objectively and wisely. 'Merlin, he…he has enchanted soldiers…knights…the fighters of all realms.' Each word came out as a gasp, and each one struck Merlin with a new blow of horror.

'What?'

'Steven and his men…enchanting them. They will turn…they will turn against kings and queens. Camelot's soldiers first…then the rest…all kingdoms fighting against each other. And then the knights…many knights…those closest to Arthur.'

Merlin felt his entire body sway under the knowledge and he gasped as if he had fallen through ice into a black lake. That wasn't possible. That wasn't possible. The light flickered again, closer now; Merlin could just about hear footsteps.

'Camelot…Arthur will…Arthur will be killed and blamed. Nations will turn. War…fighting. But Cyathia will be untouched…they will flee…back to safety…back to obscurity. It was his plan from the start. But not mine,' he added, his hand clenching Merlin's more tightly than it had done so far. 'Not mine.'

'I know,' Merlin assured. 'I know. But this isn't possible. He isn't powerful enough. Tiden can not control so many.'

'He can,' James gasped.

'How? How can I stop it?' James shook his head, his eyes widening until the whites seemed to shine, and then with strength Merlin didn't know he possessed, the man flung his hand up and tightly grasped the top of Merlin's arm, his shaking fingers digging into the skin their.

'He has the power of many…all with the mark.'

Merlin froze, his whole body stiffening at the words. Surely that wasn't right, surely that was a mistake.

'What?'

'You have pledged your…' his back arched again and his eyes creased in agony, '…magic,' he whispered, his voice ragged. 'He can use it at will.'

'No, no. That can't happen.' Merlin looked around desperately. There was another light now, closer still, only a hundred yards. How was that possible? Merlin couldn't process the thought. Tiden could use his magic? He could take it at will? Merlin swallowed heavily, his mind racing. He was beginning to understand the strength of his magic and he knew that he could not allow Tiden to have it. 'How do I stop it?'

The pain on James' face subsided for a moment, as a deep grief replaced it. 'I don't know,' he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. 'But you must.'

Merlin saw the man's eyes close and put his own head back in a silent cry to the heavens. He looked back down. James was looking at him. 'Please,' he called. Merlin bent his head down and pressed his ear to the man's mouth. He could barely make out the words. 'Cyathia's dream…it is real…he has twisted it. Please, Merlin,' he begged, his voice wavering at every moment. 'Don't let her fall.'

Merlin felt the man's breath against his ear, and then felt nothing but the cool night air once again trying to cut its way to his skin. James' hand, which was still clutched against the mark –a mark that Merlin now felt as brand- slowly fell, leaving Merlin alone and desperate, with only the company of those who would see his magic exploited and then likely kill him. He looked down at the man who lay in his arms, and felt shock reverberate about his body. This wasn't possible; this couldn't be happening. He swallowed down the scream that wanted to tear from his throat and instead buried his head in the man's shoulder, hugging him close, willing him back to life, but he remained still.

The lights cast shadows nearby and Merlin knew he could stay no longer. He shifted from under James' lifeless form, feeling more guilt seer into him at the thought of leaving the man, but he was beyond Steven's cruelty now, and he had told Merlin what he needed to know. Merlin bowed his head and placed a hand on the man's forehead.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, before getting up and racing away from the lights that, moments later, settled across James' body. Shouts echoed through the forest, but they were not directed at Merlin and he ran from them, allowing magic to guide him, throwing himself through the undergrowth without care for the branches that slashed across his face, or the roots that rose up to meet his feet. He continued on, consumed by one thought.

Time was up; he could protect his secrets no longer. He had been placed on the earth to be Arthur's servant; to build and unite Albion with his King -he felt it with a certainty that he was sure stemmed from his old life. Nothing else mattered now.

And above that understanding was one belief. No matter what the cost, no matter what the fall out, no matter what it meant for him: it was time to tell Arthur the truth.

* * *

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	23. Chapter 23

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for such a lovely response to the last chapter. I'm glad you liked it. Please let me know what you think of this one!

* * *

**Chapter 23**

He ran through the night, desperation pounding through him with every step he took. Throwing himself through the undergrowth, he became almost painfully aware of the path behind him and the path up ahead and he was hard pressed to work out exactly what it was that he was running from and what it was he was running to.

Behind him, he knew, lay James; his gentle bravery now a relic of the past, a past that Merlin had only briefly been part of, but which had impacted him immensely. He could still feel the man's blood on his hands, could still see, in his mind's eye, James lying there, his face ghostly in the dark light. The image, however, was incomplete and blurry due to the fact that Merlin hadn't truly been able to make out his features in the dull light, but now, as he remembered, he found the image twisting into something horrific: grimaces of agony, the man's face marred by gruesome scars and injuries that Merlin knew hadn't been there, but which now assaulted him as he ran.

And as they formed in his mind, he felt his grief rising up. The shock had held his reaction in place, making it possible for him to think about his next moves, but now all he needed to do was run towards Camelot and that didn't require thought or strategy. His mind was free and he found that he had freed it up to grieve. He cried now, as he ran, his chest hurting from more than just the physical exercise of his flight. James had spent his life protecting and building Cyathia and supporting Tiden, and then he had been betrayed, killed by the very people who he thought shared his dream; a peaceful and hopeful dream.

Now the dream was ruined and James had died leaving his last hope to Merlin. Why had he involved James in the first place? He shouldn't have said anything, that way James would never have thought to spy on Tiden, would never have discovered their plan and paid for his change of allegiance with his life.

But then –and it was a thought that Merlin couldn't deny- he would never have known Tiden's true purpose; Arthur and Camelot would have been caught unawares. Now, at least, they would have warning, Merlin would make sure of it. He would not let James' bravery and death be for nothing.

And suddenly he understood what Arthur had really meant when he said that he wanted Merlin's death to count. He understood where the King had been coming from.

With all the force of a cannon, a memory suddenly ripped through him, causing him to crash to his knees. He saw himself and Arthur, surrounded by several of the other knights. It was night time and they were talking in whispered tones. Merlin watched the scene unfold, followed it through from start to end. No longer was he just seeing glimpses, he was seeing everything in context. He quickly realised that the memories he was reclaiming were those of his last day before the accident which had flung him so cluelessly into Cyathia. He remembered the conversation he and Arthur had had; he remembered the travelling that had taken place the following day; remembered the cliff path and the snake. He heard Arthur's calm instructions to get Zephyr under control, followed by the abject panic in the King's voice and the desperate scream of denial as Merlin finally found himself falling through the air. He could feel the rush of wind that had engulfed him as he began to plummet, remembered afresh his own panic at the thought that he was probably going to die. And then nothing.

He took several deep, gasping breaths as he lay on the forest floor, the images still flashing through his mind before they settled back into memories that he could draw on at will. Dazed and shocked, he lay still for several moments, trying to even out his breathing, but the hope and despair that was simultaneously rushing through him made that difficult. That hadn't been the disjointed memory returns of the last few days. No, that had been a continuous stream of memory, with context and deep emotions.

He struggled to his feet and tried not to consider what that might mean; all he knew was that he had to get to Arthur.

A sound far behind him caught his attention as he prepared to run once more. There was shouting; it was muffled in the distance, but he knew the voices were heading his way. They had spotted his trail. They knew that someone had spoken to James. Merlin felt his urgency resurge afresh. If Steven and Tiden knew that they had been discovered, then surely they would instigate the plan straightaway.

Merlin set off again, ignoring the burning in his muscles, the heaving of his chest and the tears that streamed down his face. He ran from Steven; he ran from his failure with James; he ran from the mistakes that he had made; he ran from his disloyalty and his regret.

He ran towards Camelot.

He ran towards Arthur.

Towards a future that he was uncertain off; towards people who he should have protected and yet had betrayed; to a chance to redeem himself and be again the person that he wanted to be.

And as he ran, he found his mind racing over more returning memories, each of them fully formed and seated within a context which gave them meaning and significance. As he ran to Camelot, he found himself running towards the man he had once been. Running towards terrible regret and desperate hope.

* * *

'Arthur!'

Arthur found himself jolted out of sleep at the sound of his name being shouted across the room and his door slamming into the wall where it had been thrown open. He twisted and then sat up violently, his sword already in his hand as he jumped across the bed and stood protectively in front of Guinevere who was looking around in fright.

But he lowered his weapon a moment later when, in the light of the fire, he saw Merlin standing by the door. The man was breathing heavily and he looked exhausted. There was a desperation in the way he held himself, in the way his eyes stared into Arthur's.

'Merlin, what do you think-' he began in irritation, but he stopped short when he spotted the blood that coated the man's clothes. Across his chest and stomach, Merlin's brown jacket was covered in the telltale dark red that Arthur had grown all too familiar with. He felt fear flare through him. Merlin was hurt, badly hurt from the looks of it.

'What happened?' he asked hurriedly, putting his sword on the bed and taking several quick steps over to his manservant. 'Guinevere, we need Edward now.' He made to reach and grab Merlin's arm to steer him to a chair, but the man backed up several steps in panic, his eyes full of confusion. 'Merlin, you're hurt.'

'What?' he breathed with difficulty, but then he looked down at his shirt and hands. His fingers trembled and Arthur saw a tear roll down his face. He took a deep breath, shook his head and looked up at Arthur once more. 'I'm fine. It's not my blood.'

'What's going on? Whose blood is it?' Arthur asked, stepping forward once again, but again Merlin backed up. This only served to infuriate Arthur. A strange fear was creeping through him. Guinevere had come to stand beside him; she had wrapped her hands around his arm in an unusually fearful display. Evidently she sensed it too. 'You need to tell me what is going on right now, Merlin, or I swear-'

'I need to tell you something,' he interrupted, the words being thrown out so forcefully that Arthur knew it had taken all of Merlin's willpower to say them. There was a moment's silence before Arthur spoke again, keeping his voice even.

'What do you need to tell me?'

At first, it seemed as though he wasn't going to say anything. There were tears in his eyes and his whole body was shaking. Arthur felt the unsettling fear grow even stronger in his mind. A sense of vulnerability came upon him and he couldn't shake it. In front of him, Merlin took several more deep breaths. He stood up straight, tears still running down his face, but fresh determination overriding them.

'I'm sorry,' he began. For a moment, Arthur thought he was talking about their argument in the woods that day, but the intensity of the words and of Merlin's countenance convinced him otherwise.

'Merlin-'

'Please, don't interrupt. Just listen, I need you to listen to me.'

For once, Arthur didn't feel compelled to point out that he was the King; there was too much gravity in Merlin's voice, too much grief. Arthur felt his chest tighten in fear.

'I have betrayed you,' he breathed. 'And I'm sorry,' the words shook as he bit back a cry. 'I have been working for King Tiden, feeding him information on you and on the talks. Anything you have said about them, I've repeated to him. Anything that worried you or concerned you, I told him. He knew exactly what to say to you in the talks the other day because I had told him everything he needed to get through your defences.'

The words came out in a desperate rush with not a breath between them, but Arthur found them fading out until he heard nothing except the crowd of thoughts that ran through his own head. He looked at Merlin's familiar gestures and facial expressions, saw the way the man was pushing himself on, but he could barely comprehend any of it. Instead there was a knife being pressed slowly into his chest and he could do nothing to hinder its progress because Merlin kept talking and kept forcing it deeper into Arthur's heart and soul.

And covering everything was the terrible truth that Arthur couldn't help but accept: he believed every word that Merlin was saying. There was no attempt on his part to argue against the confession, no theory as to why Merlin would say such stupid things because, when it came down to it, the person in front of him wasn't Merlin, hadn't been Merlin for weeks, as much as Arthur had wanted him to be. Every strange behaviour, every unexplained reaction now helped to convince Arthur that he had been stupidly blind to a traitor within his closest circle. Before the accident, it would have taken so much more to even begin to convince Arthur of Merlin's disloyalty.

Now it took nothing more than a few words.

But that didn't stop Arthur from feeling the hurt inflicted by such a personal wound. He understood the sensation by now; had felt it so many times in the past from people who he had loved, but that didn't numb it or make it any easier to bear when it began afresh.

Beside him, Guinevere had gone very still, her hands now pressed against her mouth in horror, but Arthur's horror was forced right down into his chest. It was anger that was beginning to flare in him, a deep and terrible anger that stemmed from betrayal. He moved over to the bed and picked up his sword and then took several steps towards Merlin, who, by now, was standing close to the wall. The man made no attempt to move as Arthur approached, he simply stood there, acceptance and resignation in his stance.

So it was that when Arthur found himself with his arm pressed against Merlin's chest, pinning him to the wall, with his sword pointing at the man's throat, his manservant still showed no signs of trying to escape or defend himself.

Trying to ignore the way his sword was shaking, Arthur looked at Merlin, met the grief-stricken eyes with the fury of his own.

'Why would you do that?' he hissed, his voice seemingly controlled and even, but he could sense his whole body simmering and it was taking all his will power not throw his sword to the ground and deliver blow after blow to Merlin's head. Something held him back, something that still knew who Merlin had been and couldn't bear to let go of that person again.

'Cyathia wanted the talks to fail to protect themselves. I was asked to help. And I did,' he finished in no more than a whisper. Arthur pressed his arm harder into Merlin's chest, making the man gasp slightly, but apart from that initial sound, he made no attempt to plead with Arthur. The way Merlin's body stiffened suggested that he was probably struggling for air more than he was letting on.

'You are surrounded by people who would have done anything for you,' Arthur continued; restrained fury echoing in his tone. 'By people who have taken you in and cared for you. We are your friends and your family.'

'I know,' Merlin managed to breathe, though it took all his strength. Arthur did not let up on his grip, his anger was rising, beginning to break through the barriers that he had hastily constructed to hold it back. He could feel his own chest heaving as he fought to hold back tears of anger and grief, and the only way he could do that was to put all his strength into holding Merlin in place.

'Everyone has been helping you, hoping that your memories would return, doing everything they could to remind you, and this is how you repay us?' he spat. He pressed harder and this time Merlin's hands did come up to wrap around Arthur's arm, trying to push it back and allow air into his chest once more. His mouth formed the same words that he had just uttered: _'I know,' _but it was nothing more than the faintest whisper that reached Arthur's ears. Still he did not relent, feeling rage flowing through his arms. How could Merlin do this? How could he, the one person that Arthur had always known would never betray him, turn against him with so many lies and treacheries?

He looked again at Merlin's eyes and they were pleading with him as he tried to remove Arthur's arm. But they weren't pleading for air, Arthur realised -though how he knew, he wasn't sure- Merlin was pleading for forgiveness; his eyes were filled with regret and shame. He was pleading for Arthur to forgive him, and though Arthur could not fathom being able to do such a thing, he suddenly wanted to let the man try and convince him. This was, after all, Merlin; and for the Merlin he had known, he would give this man a chance.

With a sudden jerk, he moved back from Merlin, who staggered forward several paces as he tried to breathe in air once more. Guinevere was standing closer to Arthur than she had been before and he wondered how close she had been to intervening in that exchange; she would no more see Merlin dead than Arthur would.

'Explain yourself!' Arthur shouted, pointing his sword at Merlin.

'Arthur-' he began desperately.

'That's Sire,' he told him, his face free of all emotions. He saw Merlin flinch at the words, but ignored it; he had lost the right to the title that a friend would use.

'Sire,' he began again. 'I believed that Cyathia's protection was important and I wanted to help. I didn't realise that Tiden would use the information I gave to attack you as he did.'

'So the downfall of the talks, the agitation between the rulers…that's all down to you?' Arthur asked.

'Yes,' Merlin whispered, 'myself and a few others in Cyathia's entourage.'

Arthur turned away, unable to look at Merlin. Beside him, Guinevere seemed to have been rendered silent and unmoving by shock. She looked at Merlin in confusion as if she could no longer recognise the man that stood before them; like he had changed into something different before her eyes.

'And you tell me this now out of…what? Guilt? A moral conscience?' he muttered bitterly. He turned back to Merlin. 'You want forgiveness?' he laughed humourlessly.

'No,' Merlin replied quietly and it was abrupt enough that it caused Arthur to pause. 'I won't ask you for that; I don't deserve it. I came because I remember who I am now, not fully, not yet; but I know how much I have betrayed you; I know the depth of the injury I've inflicted. I won't ask your forgiveness, but I will not leave you undefended. I know that I am meant to be at your side and-'

'No,' Arthur told him angrily. 'No longer, Merlin. You are not meant to be by my side; you are not meant to be in Camelot. Once, that was true; once, that was a truth that could not have been refuted by anyone who knew you, but now…' he shook his head and swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. 'You are no-one to me. Just another person who betrayed me.'

'Like Morgana,' Merlin nodded, 'and Agravaine,' he added, swallowing back tears. 'I know.' But Arthur's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He didn't remember mentioning either of them to Merlin. Neither had Merlin asked after them in all the days that he had been here.

'What did you say?'

'I remember things, Arthur,' he said tearfully, 'not everything, not all of it, but I remember enough to know that I've made the biggest mistakes of my life in the past few weeks; that I've shamed myself and all that I am meant to be through my actions. The more I remember, the more I tear myself apart with regret. I will not let these mistakes be your downfall. I will not let you or Camelot fall.' Arthur looked at him, angry with him for saying anything that made him sound like the old Merlin; angry at him for being able to illicit the tiniest bit of sympathy from Arthur. But even as Arthur tried to think of something to throw at Merlin, anything to hurt him and make him feel the sting of betrayal, Merlin seemed to draw new strength from somewhere. His stormy emotions cleared; he stood up straighter; his eyes burned with purpose and Arthur found himself wanting to know what he was going to say.

'I will not let you fall,' he repeated firmly.

'There is no reason why I would,' Arthur argued.

'That's where you're wrong. I've discovered more in Tiden's plan, something that was hidden from me. It's why I'm here.' He moved closer to Arthur now, his stance more conspiratorial as he looked between Arthur and Guinevere. 'Tiden plans to destroy Camelot for good. All the kings and queens are in danger, including the two of you.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'No it isn't.' He paused and seemed to measure up his next words carefully. 'There is magic involved.'

Arthur felt his whole body seize up at the thought. Magic? In the very heart of Camelot; unchecked and unnoticed?

'What do you mean?' It was Guinevere who spoke; she had paled considerably at the words, but had gathered her wits about her more quickly than Arthur had managed. Merlin turned to her, his expression grave.

'Tiden and some of his men have enchanted soldiers and knights from every represented Kingdom. This blood,' he said, holding out his stained shirt, 'is the blood of a man who found out and died to get the information to me so that I could warn you.' At this he turned to Arthur. 'Please, soldiers are about to turn against their masters and Camelot will be blamed. It's our soldiers who will turn first.'

'My soldiers,' Arthur replied, emphasising the first word, 'are loyal. They are loyal to Camelot.'

'But they are not impervious to magic,' Merlin argued. 'Tiden's magic is strong…' He paused for a moment, his vision clouding briefly. 'They will have no choice but to obey.'

There was silence for several seconds. Arthur's eyes burned into Merlin's, but the man did not drop his gaze, which only convinced Arthur of his sincerity in this matter. What he was saying was true, but even though he felt the terrible weight of the information and felt the urge to act in the protection of those gathered in his kingdom, Arthur felt his mind focussing on another piece of information.

'You knew that Tiden had magic,' he whispered, 'you knew that he and others had magic and you said nothing.'

'I didn't realise that he would use it for evil,' Merlin argued, but he was nervous.

'Magic is evil!' Arthur spluttered incredulously. 'You of all people should know that! You've seen what it's done to Camelot in the past.'

'I remember some of it,' Merlin nodded. 'But I don't remember the evil of magic. I remember the evil of men and women.'

'How dare you. You mock Camelot's most stringent law?'

'I'm not mocking it,' Merlin argued, 'I'm questioning it based on what I have seen. The man who died to get the information to you had magic. Are you saying that he used it for evil?'

'That's why Cyathia wanted the talks to fail,' Arthur said instead, a revelation flaming through him as he thought of all the magic-users that seemed to be connected to that kingdom. He turned and looked at Merlin and saw panic flit across the man's face. 'They are a kingdom that practices magic. Of course they don't want a land united against it.'

'They're not evil,' Merlin told him firmly. 'I saw it with my own eyes. They use magic for good, for creating a better future.'

'How does this plan create goodness in anything?' Arthur asked him incredulously.

'That is the evil of Tiden, not of his people. They can't be held accountable for his crimes.'

'Stop it!'

Arthur swallowed back the next retort to Merlin that had risen in his throat at Guinevere's harsh demand. She looked between the two of them.

'This is not the time. We've been given a chance to save the rulers that are gathered here. Don't waste it in bitter recriminations. You'll have time enough for that later on.' She rested her gaze on Arthur and looked at him pleadingly. The wisdom and intelligence in her words rang true over his and Merlin's argument, making it look petty and insignificant.

'You're right. I'll send the knights to take them to safety.'

'No!' Merlin told him. 'Not the knights; they could turn at any moment.'

'Then who?' Arthur asked him angrily. 'They're the people who know how to protect others. They can get them to safety.'

'You can't risk it,' Merlin argued.

'What about the servants?' Guinevere asked, looking at them each in turn. 'They can get messages to the rulers. They can take them into hiding and they won't pose a threat.'

Instinctively, Arthur found himself looking at Merlin for some sort of reassurance, but caught himself just in time to see Merlin's shocked and then hurt face.

'Alright, the servants are the best chance.'

'Good.' At that, Guinevere walked over to the wardrobe and opened it up. She felt around at the bottom, throwing out cloaks and sheets that lay there and then pulled up a panel at the bottom that Arthur had genuinely had no idea was there. He walked over, a frown on his face.

'What are-?' but the question died on his lips as he saw Guinevere's old servant clothes; the ones that he had always looked out for around the castle before they were married. Instantly, he understood her plan. 'No,' he told her firmly, trying to take the material off her. 'I won't let you.'

'Arthur-'

'I am not letting you walk around the castle unprotected. You heard what he said: the soldiers are going to turn on kings and queens.'

'I won't be recognised. I can wear a head scarf as well.'

'No, I'm not letting you out of my sight.'

'It might be best…' came Merlin's voice from behind them, but Arthur whirled around so violently that Merlin froze mid step where he had been coming to join them.

'You have no say in anything!' After a moment of stillness, Merlin lowered his eyes and nodded his head. By the time Arthur turned back, Guinevere had laid down the dress and was looking gently at him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. 'I won't let you do this,' he whispered.

'I will be safer disguised as a servant. I know the servants, I can make sure that they understand the dangers of the situation, I can organise them without any questions asked. If you let rulers die in Camelot then all hopes of a future alliance are shattered. If you save them, then that hope burns brighter.'

Arthur tried to ignore the logic in what she was saying, but it was irrefutable. He held her gaze challengingly for several seconds, but he was met only with her gentleness and eventually had to drop his eyes.

'I don't like this,' he said.

'I know, but it's the best way.'

From behind them, Merlin edged forward. He looked at Arthur, evidently asking for permission to say something. It was so unlike Merlin that it only made anger rise afresh in Arthur. He turned to him, his eyes piercing, but he did nothing to stop the man from speaking.

'We need to get all of them somewhere safe,' he began cautiously. 'Somewhere where the soldiers can't get to them.'

'They need to be out of Camelot,' Arthur argued.

'They'll be chased down,' Merlin replied, shaking his head. 'The soldiers will have horses, training, everything they need to track and hunt the kings and queens. Unless…' he paused and looked around the room for several seconds and then back at Arthur. 'If we can get them to the siege tunnels then we can get them to safety or at least hide them. Gwen,' he said, turning away from Arthur and walking over to her. Arthur saw how quick she was to listen, how free of anger she was when she looked at Merlin, and it only made him feel more alone. How could she trust him so easily after everything he had done? 'Tell the servants to take the kings and queens into the catacombs below the dungeons. They must not let anyone know where they are going.'

'How do you know about the catacombs?' Arthur asked him, walking over and placing himself between Guinevere and Merlin. 'How do you know they lead to the siege tunnels?'

'Because you told me,' Merlin replied quietly as Guinevere disappeared behind her screen to change into her servant clothes. A new suspicion rose in Arthur and he grabbed Merlin's arm, pulling him back as he tried to walk across the room.

'How much do you remember?' Arthur asked him, eyes narrowed. 'Or was that all a lie as well: memories reappearing at random? Was that all a ruse to make your actions appear more innocent than they are?' For the first time since Merlin had run into the room, Arthur detected the briefest flicker of anger in his eyes. He stepped forward, meeting Arthur's brittleness with his own.

'If I had remembered even the smallest amount at the start then I would never have done any of this. You know that.'

'No I don't,' he replied firmly, knowing it was a lie and yet wanting to hurt Merlin as much as he could. 'I don't know anything about you, Merlin. I obviously never have.'

It had the desired effect. Merlin backed off instantly, his eyes loosing their ferocity and his stance losing its confidence. He moved to the other side of the room, away from Arthur and away from Guinevere, standing instead by the fire and staring into it with an intensity that seemed almost painful. A small ache of guilt throbbed through Arthur, but he pushed it aside. He would not be made to feel like his actions were wrong, not when stacked up against the treacheries that Merlin had carried out. He found, however, that he could not continue to watch Merlin; the grief it raised in him was almost too much to bear. Instead, he quickly got dressed, before pulling on his chainmail. The tension in the room increased tenfold; always in the past, Merlin had helped Arthur get ready. He ignored the thought.

Moments later, Guinevere reappeared from behind the screen dressed in such familiar attire that for a moment Arthur felt like he could step back in time to a place where none of his current cares and hurts could reach him. As she had done so many times in the past, Guinevere clasped her hands in front of her, bowed her head, which was covered with a simple head scarf, and looked every bit the obedient servant. He couldn't help but smile. As much as he now loved seeing his wife dressed in all the finest and most elegant materials, it was the woman in front of him that he had first fallen in love with.

She walked over to him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

'I'll be fine. I'll meet you in the catacombs. The servants will be discreet.'

'Be careful,' he whispered. She nodded and made to move away, but Arthur found his hands slipping down to her waist, holding her in place for a few seconds more. He could think of nothing to say, all he knew was that he didn't want to let her go.

'I'll see you soon,' she reassured him and then gently used her hands to remove Arthur's. Seconds later she was gone.

Arthur stared at the door for several moments before turning, hesitantly, to look at Merlin. The man was still standing by the fire, but he was more composed now, as if he was pushing aside everything else in order to carry out the task at hand.

'We need to get to the siege tunnels,' he said carefully. Arthur said nothing, but he gathered his things quickly. 'When this is over,' Merlin continued, a moment later, 'I'll show you that you can trust me again.

'No,' Arthur replied quietly, his voice free of emotion, though his heart was crushed with it. 'When this is over, you will leave Camelot and never come back.'

He walked past Merlin, feeling the man's grief as strongly as his own.

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	24. Chapter 24

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews once again. They're always really encouraging. I still have no idea how many chapters are left. I'm writing 27 at the moment and it's not the last, so I'll let you know when I have a clearer idea.

I'm posting a little bit earlier this week as an early birthday present (or an on time birthday present depending on when the chapter gets read) for MusicChannySkyscraper as she asked so nicely! Happy birthday!

Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 24**

Merlin's mind raced as he and Arthur crept through the corridors of Camelot in the darkness of the night. He tried, mostly in vain, to ignore the deep sadness in him, the ache of regret and guilt that was growing more and more with every memory that returned – and there were many of them now.

He could remember Gaius. For so long he had heard about this man who was his friend and mentor and hadn't really been able to picture the sort of person he was, but now he could see him. He could remember the sound of the man's voice and the way he would reprimand Merlin for the many escapades he now remembered he had been through. And though the memories were far from complete, there was enough of a picture that Merlin longed for the man's wisdom now. If Gaius had been around, Merlin knew that things would not have gotten to this. His mentor would have been able to tell him who he was and what he was supposed to be doing and how he was supposed to be acting. He knew about the magic, he knew about everything. Tiden had done much more than he realised in keeping the old physician away from Camelot for so long.

Merlin glanced up and saw Arthur carefully picking his way through the corridors. Only minutes after they left the room, the King had announced that instead of going to the siege tunnels he was going to find Tiden. He was less then happy when Merlin had said that their only choice was to get to the siege tunnels to await the rest of the monarchs. He had argued with Merlin –throwing in as many cutting remarks as he could- that his job was not to hide in the shadows, but to fight for his kingdom.

'And how will you fight?' Merlin had asked, his own frustrations at Arthur's view of him seeping into his words. 'They're sorcerers. They'll disarm and kill you with magic. You have no defence against that.'

'Then what is the point?' Arthur had argued back, far too loudly in the quiet corridors. Merlin hadn't risked telling him to keep his voice down, but the King realised and did so of his own accord. 'If we have no means of fighting Tiden and he has control of the soldiers then he will hunt us all down regardless of whether we can hide in the tunnels or escape through them.'

'We can deal with Tiden later.'

'How? Or is this just a trap that you're leading me into?'

'I am _not_ leading you into a trap. I am trying to save your life,' Merlin had told him vehemently. 'We'll find a way to break the enchantment, but until then your priority is keeping yourself and your guests alive. If they die in Camelot, it will start a war. You know that!'

Arthur had remained quiet after that. As they reached another turn in the corridor, he paused and turned back round. In the past, Merlin remembered him doing this several times in various situations, but always before it had been to check that Merlin was safe; now the action showed nothing but suspicion. Arthur was still expecting Merlin to turn on him at any second.

Merlin swallowed down the grief that rose in him in at the thought. What he had said to Arthur before had been true: with every returning memory, he felt the guilt and shame of what he had done more and more. With every second that passed, he found himself wishing to go back and change it all; it was beginning to gnaw away at him; eroding away all else. And try as he might, he could not convince his mind to ignore his make believe pasts where he did everything right. It was driving him deeper and deeper into a darkness that he wasn't sure how to get out from and Arthur's evident hatred towards him was only making it even more unbearable. He had ruined everything -he knew that for sure now- and nothing he did here would ever make it better.

And still Arthur didn't know the truth, not all of it, not when it came to Merlin's magic. When he had run through the forest, Merlin had been intending to tell him, had decided that along with everything else it was just be one more thing that Arthur had needed to know. And then his memories had started to return and the thought of revealing his secret after so long began to shrink in his mind. He remembered well enough his reasons for keeping Arthur in the dark and they still stood. A part of him, however, had still retained that determination to finally be rid of the secret that had shaped his relationship with the King from the moment they met. But then Merlin had seen Arthur's face when he found out about Cyathia's magic and about the betrayal that he had unwittingly been subjected to.

If that was the depth of emotion that Arthur felt when he was betrayed by a Merlin who, at least at the start, hadn't known any better, then what reaction would the King have had to the revelation that the Merlin he really thought he had known had also been lying to him? Merlin hadn't wanted him to find out. Not now, not when he needed Arthur to listen to him, or at least be willing to accept that what he was saying about the situation was true.

No, that truth was one that was so deeply engrained in him to keep hidden and one that could be so detrimental to everything that was happening now, that Merlin had once again kept it safely locked away.

Up ahead, Arthur suddenly stood up straighter. Merlin heard footsteps round the corridor that Arthur was looking down, and saw the King's face snap into a sharper focus as he prepared to greet whoever it was that was coming round the corner. Merlin's eyes went wide and he felt his heart pound. Without thinking, he made a grab for Arthur, pulling him back down the corridor, one hand over his mouth, as quietly as he could manage and hauling him into a room that they had just walked past.

It seemed that Arthur's shock at the move had made him far more easy to manhandle than Merlin had expected, but as soon as Merlin closed the door quietly behind them, Arthur snapped his arm out of Merlin's reach and backed up, glaring at him.

'How dare you!' he whispered fiercely.

'You can't let anyone know where you are.'

'That was Elyan. We could have used his help.'

'How many times do I have to tell you?' Merlin told him. 'The knights are enchanted. They could turn on you at any second.'

'So you keep saying and yet there's no fighting, no-one is even awake in the castle. Your story is beginning to look like just another lie.'

Merlin clenched his fists together and bit back his irritation, but he could not stop himself from speaking.

'I know that I've hurt you and that you have no reason to trust me. But you need to stop thinking with your heart and start acting like the King you are. You can _not_ let anyone see you.'

With that Merlin turned towards the door and opened it, not giving Arthur a chance to reply. The sooner they got to the tunnels, the better. Once Arthur was safe, Merlin could work out exactly what to do.

No ideas were forthcoming, however, as they crept on. In order to break the enchantment, Merlin would have to find some sort of counter spell, either for the controlling magic that Tiden would soon be using on the soldiers or for the loyalty oaths. The thought sent a shudder through Merlin and he refused to think about it. He only hoped that he could resist the magical control that had been put on him, or at least still use his magic while Tiden was taking it. But either way, finding a spell meant getting to the magic book that Merlin now remembered was hidden in the floor of his bedroom. And that meant getting away from Arthur.

They soon reached the dungeons and made their way silently to the hidden doorways that led into the catacombs, using one of the many torches in the dungeons as a light source. As far as Merlin remembered, he had never been down here, but the ease with which he seemed to find his way suggested that he had. Eventually, they reached the entrance to the main siege tunnel, hidden behind one of the tombs of the old kings. Between the two of them, they managed to push the tomb aside to reveal the sturdy oak door that marked the entrance.

Merlin watched as Arthur selected the right key from his belt, making a clear effort to shield the key from Merlin's sight. Not that it made any difference, though Arthur didn't know that; Merlin remembered which key it was anyway. He pushed the door in to reveal a tunnel -wide enough for a line of three people and tall enough so that Merlin and Arthur could stand comfortably- hewn into the rock. By the light of torch, Merlin could see the walls flickering off into the distance before they melted effortlessly into darkness.

They stood silently for several minutes, Arthur pacing back and forth in the catacombs, frequently checking the tunnel from the dungeons to see if the monarchs were arriving. Merlin guessed that it wouldn't be long and he could do with being gone before then. He didn't know why Tiden hadn't started the attack yet, unless of course he still didn't know that James had passed the information onto Merlin, but then Steven had seen his tracks. He knew that someone had been with James and surely he would have assumed it was Merlin.

But then, why was nothing happening? It was beginning to make him feel restless. But maybe that was their plan, to make him feel nervous, to make him act rashly. Or maybe they were punishing Peter for Merlin's actions. The thought made Merlin feel sick. He had tried not to think about Peter, had tried to block out the knowledge that he was still being held by Tiden and Steven. In telling Arthur Cyathia's plans, Merlin had all but sealed the boy's fate, but no matter how much he cared about Peter, he could not risk a war across the land, not now that he knew those were the stakes. He only hoped that he could still find a way of rescuing the boy. But before that, he had to stop Tiden no matter what the cost. And he couldn't do that sitting here.

'I'm going to go and see if they're coming,' he said quietly, moving past Arthur towards the entrance of the tunnel. He felt a hand grab his arm however and was met by Arthur's stern face.

'You're not going anywhere.'

'It's just to-'

'No.' The word was quiet, blunt and firm. 'You are staying here where I can see you.'

'I'm not against you,' Merlin tried, but Arthur had already pushed him back towards the siege tunnel, before sitting himself down against the wall of the tomb, his eyes to the ground. Merlin considered making a run for it, but Arthur would catch up with him and he couldn't risk Arthur roaming the castle unprotected. But then what could he do? Somehow he had to find away of stopping Arthur from leaving. He scanned the room, and a plan began forming in his mind, but before he could finish the thought, Arthur spoke. His voice was softer. There was still anger behind it, but it seemed to have been pushed aside, at least for the time being.

'You said that if you'd remembered anything at the start you wouldn't have done this…' he murmured. Merlin frowned, not understanding the statement. It seemed unfinished somehow, but as Arthur glanced up at him, he recalled their exchange in Arthur's chambers.

'I wouldn't have,' Merlin agreed.

'Then why, when your memories started returning, did you carry on?' He didn't look at Merlin, but it was obvious that he was aware of exactly where Merlin was and exactly what he was doing. Merlin considered the question, knowing that he shouldn't waste time, but being unable to turn away from this tiny slither of hope that Arthur might just be trying to understand.

'Because I didn't realise what Tiden was doing.'

'You knew he was sabotaging the talks,' Arthur retorted, anger slicing back into his voice, though nowhere near as much as before. Merlin stopped again, thinking through the best way to explain.

'When I was in Cyathia, I saw a place where magic was used for good.' A sound of scoffing from Arthur could be heard, but he made no comment. 'It was. It is. The people there use their abilities to stop disease, to grow good crops, to create architecture and machinery. They are a peaceful people and if they could see what Tiden is doing they would remove him from the throne.'

'Magic is evil,' Arthur said simply.

'No,' Merlin told him. 'As I said before: people are evil and the things they do are evil. Evil people use magic for evil – like Tiden. Good people use magic for good.'

'Like who?' Arthur asked him with an incredulous shake of his head. 'You must remember some of the attacks that Camelot has endured from sorcerers.'

'I do, but those were evil people. The Cyathians are good. The man who died to get us this information was good, and his magic was good. I saw it myself.' Arthur just shook his head and Merlin could see that his words were only convincing the King that he really couldn't be trusted, but Merlin persisted anyway. Even if Arthur didn't believe him, he had to at least try to make the King understand. 'I helped Tiden at first because I thought he was protecting Cyathia and I didn't want that Kingdom to be attacked because of their magic when their intentions and actions were good.'

'And what about when you realised that Tiden's intentions were bad?' Arthur asked, louder now. He stood up and faced Merlin. 'You heard him in those talks, how he rallied everyone against Camelot, and yet you said nothing to me of his kingdom or his intentions.'

'I didn't know what he was planning.'

'But you disapproved,' Arthur said, 'I know you did. And when you don't approve of something, Merlin, you fight against it. But you told me nothing.'

'After those talks, I told them that I wasn't doing it anymore. I wasn't going to help him.'

'By keeping quiet you did just that,' Arthur retorted, shaking his head in disappointment, which Merlin couldn't bear to see.

'I couldn't tell you.'

'Why not?' he asked, turning to Merlin and holding out his hands in confusion. Merlin took a deep breath. He didn't want to implicate Gwaine in this scheme, but he saw no other way of convincing Arthur.

'Because he had my mother and Gaius as hostages.'

'What?'

'Steven, Tiden's supporter, came and saw me. I said I wasn't going to help them. He told me that if I didn't then she would die and Gaius too. There was never any illness in Ealdor; they made it up. A ruse so that we wouldn't go searching for either of them when they didn't return to Camelot after hearing I was alive.'

'He has them now?' Arthur asked in alarm, and for the first time Merlin didn't hear anger in the man's voice.

'No, I think they're alright now. I think they've been rescued.' Merlin saw the relief pass over Arthur's face, but it was quickly replaced by suspicion.

'How can you know they're safe? I know you haven't left Camelot.' He said it confidently, but Merlin saw a flicker of doubt pass across the King's face.

'No, I haven't,' he agreed. He took a deep breath. 'Gwaine went to find them. I asked him to.'

'Gwaine knew?' The dead tone in Arthur's voice made Merlin panic. He could almost see the thoughts in Arthur's head: another betrayal.

'No, no,' Merlin replied quickly. 'He only knew that I was being blackmailed, but he didn't know why and I didn't tell him. He didn't know anything about Tiden.'

'Why didn't he tell me what he was doing?' Arthur blustered.

'Because I begged him not to and asked him to trust me,' Merlin admitted quietly. Arthur shook his head, turning away with disgust on his face and Merlin knew that it was directed entirely at him. He saw the momentary truce between them slipping away to be replaced by the same anger that had joined them before. Merlin had no more time for this. He had at least said what he needed to in explaining his actions. Arthur knew the truth, whether he accepted it or not. Taking a deep breath, Merlin put his plan into action.

While Arthur's back was still turned, Merlin muttered a few words and lifted his hands towards the siege tunnel. A second later a rumbling sound echoed back along it.

'What was that?' Merlin asked, forcing concern into his voice.

'It sounded like a cave in.'

Arthur rushed into the tunnel, grabbing the torch as he did. Merlin followed quickly, making sure that he stayed right behind the King. With a few more muttered words, a rush of air swept along the tunnel, causing the torch in Arthur's hand to flicker to the tiniest of flames. The King slowed and Merlin took his chance, ploughing into Arthur at top speed and sending both of them sprawling to the floor. Arthur's curses echoed down the tunnel as he kicked out, rather hard, at Merlin to try and untangle himself, while Merlin muttered half hearted apologies. His focus, however, was on the keys. He knew where they were and he knew which one he wanted. Using his magic, he forced the key chain to come loose, but caught them before they hit the floor.

'How much of an idiot do you have to be?' Arthur shouted at him as he got to his feet and reclaimed the dying torch. The words echoed back until Merlin felt like he was being chastised by a hundred Arthur's; all of them disappointed in him, all of them angry. The King turned and headed deeper into the tunnel.

'Sorry,' he replied, his hands working furiously behind his back to disentangle the key he wanted. As soon as he had it, he placed the remaining keys on the floor, not wanting Arthur to believe he had turned against him and would use the keys to get into the most secure places Camelot. As Arthur moved forward, Merlin backed up until he was right by the entrance to the tunnel. It was at this point that Arthur round.

There was a moment of confusion on the King's face, which Merlin was grateful for; it meant that deep down, and for now at least, Arthur's first reaction to Merlin wasn't suspicion. But that emotion soon took over as Arthur pointed the torch against the tunnel floor and saw the bunch of keys. He looked up at Merlin, his eyes blazing as he caught sight of the key in Merlin's hand.

'Don't you dare,' he growled, beginning to move forward slowly as if Merlin was some wild animal. For a second, Merlin could move. Could he really do this? Could he really betray Arthur's trust again? But then he thought of Tiden and Steven and Peter and the loyalty mark and everything that would crumble if he didn't find a way to stop this plan. In the end, Arthur's hatred was a small, though heartbreaking, price to pay for the future of an entire land.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, before throwing himself through the door and slamming it shut. The last thing he saw was Arthur's furious face as he began to run towards the door. Merlin's hand shook as he tried to insert the key into the lock. He could hear Arthur's enraged shouts from the other side of the door. He was shouting Merlin's name with more intensity than Merlin could ever remember him using before.

The King's thundering steps were getting closer and still Merlin couldn't get the key to fit in the lock. Desperation filled him, until a sudden clarity shot through his brain. With a whispered word, the lock clicked shut as magic forced its movements, just in time for Merlin to see the whole door shake as Arthur slammed into it. This was followed by a pounding on the wood that made Merlin wince. It sounded like the man was punching the door and still he was shouting Merlin's name in rage. Quietly, trying to ignore the hatred that was being directed at him through the divide, Merlin slotted the key back into the door so that Gwen could open it when she arrived with other monarchs. No doubt Arthur would fill her in on what had happened.

Gently, and as clearly as he could, Merlin directed another apology towards Arthur, though he doubted the man heard it over the din, and then turned to leave the catacombs. He hadn't taken more than ten steps when the warning bells sounded. Merlin felt his heart sink: if Tiden wanted soldiers awake and fighting then that that would be the way to ensure it happened. Time was running short. In a matter of minutes, the whole of the castle would be a battle ground.

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	25. Chapter 25

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: In light of the dozens of typos that I found when I re-read this chapter, I'm going to apologise in advance for any mistakes that you find. Hopefully they won't take away from the story! Thanks very much for the reviews!

Please let me know what you think of this chapter!

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**Chapter 25**

With the echo of Arthur's shouts following him through the catacombs, Merlin raced up through the dungeons and into the castle. As he reached the top of the stairs to the dungeons, he became aware of footsteps coming down the corridor. He pressed himself back into the shadows and held his breath. He couldn't help but close his eyes in relief as he heard Gwen's whispered tones. He waited silently as at least two dozen servants and rulers hurried quietly down the corridors. Their panic was evident, especially now that the bells were ringing throughout the halls, but Gwen's calm leadership seemed to be keeping their fears at bay.

Merlin counted everyone as they walked past. It seemed that nearly all of the leaders had been rounded up, but Merlin didn't see the King from Powys in the small entourage. His wife, however, was there; she was crying and one of the servants was leading her gently by the arm. Merlin wondered where her husband was. Powys and Camelot were on good terms, or at least they had been, would that be enough to avert a war if the King was dead?

As soon as they had moved past, Merlin extricated himself from the shadows and headed back up through the castle. Once at the top, he paused to consider his options. He could go and confront Tiden, but he had no idea how to stop the man after that. He could try and find Peter, but he didn't know where they were keeping him or even…even if he was alive. He closed his eyes for several seconds and took deep breaths as panic began to rise up in him. He could not afford to make mistakes. And he couldn't stay here much longer. As soon as Gwen got to the tunnel, which would be in a few minutes, Arthur would attempt to come after him. He only hoped that Gwen could talk him down.

Above him -he didn't know how many floors- Merlin heard the first clashes of swords. He froze, suddenly expecting to feel his magic draining from him, or the loyalty oath burning into his arm, but there was nothing. He cautiously reached into his body with his magic, gently probing to see if there was anything that seemed out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. If Tiden was using his magic, then he definitely couldn't tell. Hope began to bubble in him, however: perhaps the oath hadn't worked on him.

The sounds of metal striking against metal reverberated distantly again, drawing Merlin from his reflections. It spurred him to action and he turned towards his and Gaius' chambers, hoping against hope that his spell book would have something to help him. He ran, but even as he did so, he found that the pages of his book began flicking through his mind, his memories returning to him; page after page after page. Every time his feet hit the ground, a new spell and enchantment came back to him from the leaves of his book. And the further he ran, the more desperate he became. None of the spells that he was remembering would help him with either the loyalty oath –if indeed it did manifest at some point- or Tiden's control enchantment.

By the time he had reached the servant levels of the castles, his steps had slowed almost to a stop. He paused and leant against the wall, trying to clear his mind, trying to think of a plan, but nothing came to him. Around him in the surrounding corridors, he suddenly became aware of movement; he pushed himself into a doorway, worried that it was Arthur, or soldiers, but it was servants that appeared, stumbling down the main corridor towards the side passage that Merlin was in. He realised, with a jolt, that he recognised many of them from Camelot, recognised them from before. He stepped out and saw a young servant who he had seen in the kitchens on countless occasions, and who had said hello to him over and over again in the last few weeks.

'Merlin!' she called as he stepped forward. She had a shawl draped around her shoulders and her eyes shone with tears. She shivered, though it wasn't cold.

'Robyn,' he called and he saw a smile grace her features as he said her name.

'Yes,' she nodded. 'Yes, it's me. What's happening? Where's the King and our soldiers?' Merlin grasped her lightly by the soldiers.

'We're not sure what's happening, but I need you to tell everyone you see to get into their rooms and lock the doors until they're told it's safe. Don't wonder the castle, don't leave the servants' quarters. Do you understand me?' She nodded firmly, seeming to take confidence from the resolve in Merlin's voice.

'I will, I will,' she assured him. 'But where are you going?' she asked as he ran past her.

'I need to put some things right,' he told her. With that he was gone.

* * *

Arthur slammed his hands against the door with all his force, knowing that he was bruising and tearing the skin there. Quietly he thought he heard Merlin's voice giving another apology, but it only made him pound on the door even harder.

'Merlin!' he yelled. 'Merlin!' But he knew the man was gone. He let out a shout of rage that tore at his throat, and slammed his fists one final time against the door. How could he do that? How could he, after all his self-righteous comments about wanting to make Arthur trust him, how could he go and do that? Steal from him; lock him in the siege tunnels; lie to him again! He kicked the stone wall and instantly regretted it as his foot screamed in protest. He clenched his fists together and pictured himself tackling Merlin to the ground.

What was he doing? What part of the plan was this? Had Arthur been fooled so easily again into believing that Merlin wasn't a threat? He didn't know what to believe anymore; he didn't know who to trust or who to turn to. But he knew one thing for sure, he would not let Merlin do this easily; he would stop him, demand answers, make sure that Merlin knew exactly how much he had lost in deciding to throw aside all that he had once been.

He turned back down the tunnel and saw the torch still flickering where he had dropped it, and the bunch of keys -minus one very important one- a few feet away. Purposefully he strode back down the tunnel, trying to ignore the way his whole body was trembling with rage. He picked up the keys and attached them to his belt. Merlin may have managed to lock him in this tunnel, but as long as the cave in they had heard was small enough, all Arthur had to do was walk out the other end. He calculated that if he went at a flat out run, he could be out of the tunnel and back in Camelot in fifteen minutes, on top of however long it took to clear the tunnel. Without another thought, Arthur started to run; he would not let his kingdom fall to ruin and he would not allow Merlin to be the cause.

* * *

The blade of a sword slicing towards Merlin's shoulder caused him to stumble to the ground in an attempt to avoid it. He fell hard on his side and let out a grunt of pain, even as he scrambled to the side of the corridor to get away from anyone else who might try and skewer him, but none of the soldiers around him took any notice; the sword that had nearly slashed through his skin hadn't even been aimed at him, but a soldier from Powys.

It was the same everywhere in the castle. The ring of metal clashing against metal was all that could be heard above the shouts and grunts of men doing their best to kill each other. They had formed territories of sorts – groups of soldiers from the same kingdoms were defending certain sections of the castle; some of them close to the areas where their leaders had been staying, but whether or not they knew that their kings and queens were elsewhere, Merlin didn't know. It didn't seem to matter. There was a glazed look in their eyes and their fighting, while better than anything Merlin could manage, didn't seem as finessed as he would have expected from trained fighters.

Merlin edged along the wall to where the fighting was less concentrated and then pushed himself up. He was still only in the main entrance hall, having run into trouble on the level below when several corridors were blocked with groups of fighting soldiers, who must have been on some sort of watch duty over their supplies. As such, he had had to double back and find an alternative route; there was no way he would have got through there unharmed, even if the soldiers were ignoring him.

The entrance hall, though, was proving to be just as difficult to navigate, maybe even more so. The problem lay in the fact that the courtyard was just down the main steps and it seemed that the thickest fighting was taking place there. From where he was currently stood, Merlin could just make out the scores of men fighting as he looked out of the window.

And there were fatalities. Merlin tried not to think about the number of fallen soldiers he had seen. It wasn't huge numbers, not yet, but it would be enough to risk war. Somehow, Merlin had to make it to Tiden, he had to stop him. Taking several deep breaths and scanning every detail of the room, Merlin set off at a run, dodging between the vicious attacks that were taking place everywhere and, every now and then, using magic to create a gap by forcefully pushing soldiers out of the way. He ran on in the same vein for several minutes. The whistle of weapons past his head became a familiar sound, the sight of blank-eyed men raging against strangers created the scenery of his journey. And there was nothing Merlin could do if he didn't stop the person who was controlling them all.

It took much longer than Merlin would have liked, and several detours, to finally reach the corridor that would lead him to Tiden's room. He had no evidence, of course, that Tiden was there, but the fact that Cyathia had arrived in Camelot last meant that their rooms were quite out of the way; if Tiden wanted to remain undisturbed, then his best chance would be to stay where he already was. Merlin slowed his pace as he rounded the final corner and was met with a dozen Cyathian guards who were no doubt quite capable with magic as well. Without giving them time to react to his sudden appearance, Merlin instinctively threw out a huge blast of magic in their direction. Many of them crumpled instantly, their bodies been thrown against the wall and sliding down it, while others managed to stay on their feet, having thrown up some sort of shield. Merlin sensed several spells being flung back at him, but put his hand up. At first he thought it was just his body's instinctual reaction to attack and that he would find himself hitting his own wall in a few moments, but instead he felt his magic weave itself into a shield in front of him. He was pushed backwards by the combined efforts of the five remaining guards, but he stayed on his feet unharmed.

Feeling a confidence that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time, Merlin sent a second attack towards them, this time instructing his magic to completely immobilise the men in front of him. It worked instantly; the men froze, unable to move and so Merlin impressed a desire to sleep in their minds. Within moments their eyes were closed and Merlin let them fall to the ground, less gently than he really should have done. The hallway was silent once more, but Merlin looked to the door, expecting it to open any moment. It remained closed, however, and for several seconds Merlin worried that he had got it wrong after all and Tiden wasn't there.

That fear disappeared moments later when Merlin pushed open the door to Tiden's room, unlocking it with magic first, and stepped in. He staggered slightly at the intensity of magic that he felt in the room and for a few seconds it disorientated him, but then his body seemed to readjust and he was able to process the sights before him. Tiden and Steven were both in the room, but they looked very different. Steven was knelt on the ground, his head bowed and his eyes closed as if he was in a deep meditative state. Tiden on the other hand stood upright, his eyes glowing gold, his whole body tensed in concentration. Around him were several artefacts, including the bracelet that Merlin had been supposed to present to Arthur on their first day in Camelot. Merlin remembered only too well that its purpose was to store magic for later use and he guessed that each and every item arranged on the floor by Tiden's feet served the same purpose. The room seemed to vibrate with power.

As Merlin stepped forward, Tiden's eyes switched their focus from some unseen point in the room, onto Merlin. He smiled, the expression filled with malice and evil, an impression which was only heightened by the way his eyes glowed with power.

'Your discovery of my plan has been for nothing, Merlin,' he mused. Even his voice, seemed to shimmer with power and Merlin felt a genuine despair fill him. How could he possibly beat this?

'You need to stop this,' he said calmly. 'You're going to kill hundreds of people.'

'Cyathia will be safe.'

'How? You've turned all these kingdoms against her.'

'None of them know that we are behind it. There will be no-one left alive to tell them.'

'Many people know,' Merlin argued. You won't get away with this. You'll bring war to Cyathia.'

'No, I will bring peace to Cyathia. She will be free to flourish while this war rages on, and for years after while mistrust holds the land apart.'

'I _will _stop you,' Merlin told him.

'No you won't,' the man replied, his gaze shifting from Merlin and back onto the unseen point. With a yell, Merlin threw a blast of magic at the man, but it curled away like smoke as it was met by an invisible barrier.

'You're not strong enough,' Tiden told him.

'That's what you think, but your mark didn't work on me did it!' he said. 'I was strong enough to stop that.'

The laugh that came from Tiden's throat, enhanced as it was with such malicious magic, made Merlin shudder. He felt Tiden's eyes drift to him again, almost lazily, but they were filled with amusement.

'You think I've started using your mark yet?' he asked. Merlin swallowed back his fear at the words. 'Believe me; you'll know when you're being drained of your magic.'

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but found that no words came out. Sounds behind him, however, caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon and Percival come crashing through the door. Merlin felt fear in case him in an instant.

* * *

_Earlier_

Arthur had been both suspicious and relieved to find that there was no cave-in in the siege tunnel as he had expected. As he reached the entrance, breathing so hard that he was forced to double over, he glanced around, wondering if the source of the noise had been some attack from outside. Had Tiden found out about Camelot's defences? Had Merlin told him? Arthur tried not to focus on that; any thought of Merlin just caused his anger to flare up again, making him lose focus. But as it turned out, there was no-one waiting at the other end; Arthur was at a loss as to how to explain what the noise had been earlier, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

The siege tunnel came out on the boarder of the eastern woods, hidden in a natural cave, with a metal grill cover that Arthur unlocked with a key that Merlin hadn't thought to remove. The cave entrance was then shrouded by a thick coating of trees that Arthur had to squeeze through. With that done, he turned back towards Camelot and quickly reached the east gate. He was somewhat alarmed to see that the guards had abandoned their posts, and Merlin's warning –accompanied by a restrained rage- came back to his mind. If what he had said was true –and the distant sounds of battle indicated that they might well be- then walking into Camelot looking very much like himself was likely to get him attacked.

Cautiously, Arthur slipped into the eastern gate and made his way to the houses against the wall. The streets were empty, people evidently barricaded in their houses, and it seemed that all the soldiers were up in the castle. As quietly as he could, Arthur inched forward. With his free hand, the one not clutching his sword, Arthur knocked on the door. There was no reply, and so with a firm kick to the door, Arthur made his way in.

He was met by a dully lit room and two men, evidently father and son, brandishing various improvised weapons at him. The father, who had to be in his fifties, was pointing a broom in his direction, while the boy had a washboard raised high. Behind them a woman and three younger girls were huddled together, their eyes closed tightly. Arthur lowered his sword immediately and held out his hands.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,' he began hurriedly.

'King Arthur?' the man asked, his eyes wide. Instantly he and his son lowered their weapons and dropped to one knee. The mother and daughter behind did the same. 'What's going on, Sire. The fighting?'

'I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain, but I must ask a favour.'

'Anything, Sire.'

'I need to borrow some clothes.'

A few minutes later, Arthur had discarded his royal clothing, which he had left in the care of the family, and donned a non-descript pair of breeches and an old shirt. He wore them over his chainmail, unwilling to part with that, even in a disguise. His sword in his hand didn't exactly help him to fully blend in as a citizen, but there was no chance that he was entering the battle ground that his castle had become without it.

With everything as ready as it could by, Arthur made his way quickly up through the town. As he got closer, he began to see groups of fighting soldiers and saw townspeople running away from the skirmishes, but he didn't try to intervene. He had a more pressing task at hand and he doubted that his involvement here would do any good. He instinctively knew that the soldiers would not listen to him. He could see the looks on the men's faces, even from a distance; their eyes were blank as if their bodies were moving of their own accord. Merlin had been telling the truth, at least in that respect.

As he got closer to the castle, the fighting intensified, but it seemed as if his disguise was working. The soldiers, though they glanced at him every now and then, did not seem to register him as a threat; even with his sword, they ignored him. Clearly they didn't realise who he was. He doubted he would be so lucky if one of Camelot's soldiers spotted him and so he avoided them more diligently.

He reached the courtyard a moment later and tried not to think about how difficult it would be for him to get through. The entire area was awash with men trying to kill each other. Their parries and blows were clumsy somehow, but just as strong as would be expected from trained fighters. And there were many of his men in there; he could tell from their chainmail and helmets. He scouted out a route quickly, not allowing himself to consider finding another way in that didn't cross the courtyard. This was the quickest by far, and the sooner he got to Tiden and Merlin, the sooner he could put an end to everything.

Gripping his sword more firmly in his hand, Arthur made to move forward, but a hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He swung around instantly, sword at the ready to meet any attack, but the face was a familiar one.

'Leon?' he breathed, but instantly Merlin's words of warning arose in his mind. The knights had been enchanted. He brought his sword up again, just in time to see Percival, Gwaine and Elyan join Leon, all of them with an equal look of confusion on their faces.

'Arthur, what is it?' Leon asked. He still hadn't raised his own sword. Arthur said nothing, his instincts warring inside. Could they be trusted? He thought back to what Merlin had said. It was true that soldiers throughout Camelot were enchanted, but his knights didn't wear the same blank expressions as those under the curse.

'Arthur?' Elyan asked. Slowly, watching their every move, Arthur lowered his weapon.

'The soldiers are enchanted,' Arthur said by way of explanation.

'We can see that,' Gwaine told him wryly. 'As you can see, we're not.' The tone made Arthur narrow his eyes at the knight, but another thought made them widen instead.

'You're not in Ealdor. He lied…again.' The last word came out as more a growl. Why was Merlin creating such a web of lies? What plan was he in on? The thoughts echoed back at Arthur and he felt a wave of nausea rise in him. This wasn't right, it just wasn't right to be thinking of Merlin as the enemy; his mind couldn't process the idea without feeling like it was being spun in different directions. But he had lied, he was still lying. He had said that the knights were enchanted when they clearly weren't; he had said that Gwaine was in Ealdor when in fact he was right in front of Arthur. But with every lie, Arthur found himself trying to push them aside; especially now that the anger had subsided by a small amount. He didn't want to believe this of Merlin; he hated thinking of him in this way. Why hadn't he just got to Merlin in time on the day of the accident? Why hadn't he stopped him from falling over that cliff?

'I _was_ in Ealdor,' Gwaine replied, snapping Arthur from his internal condemnations. 'Merlin told you?' he asked, pushing forward in the group.

'He told me everything, or at least I think he has. He's lied too much for me to know for sure. You've got Hunith and Gaius?'

'They're safe, a bit dehydrated and very hungry, but alive. I left them in the town when I heard the fighting and then found this lot.' Arthur nodded in relief at Gwaine's explanation, but he knew that the relief wasn't entirely down to Hunith's and Gaius' safe return. He was relieved that Merlin's story had been the truth. Hope started to rise in him, but he pushed it down. Merlin had still destroyed the talks and locked him in the siege tunnel.

'What do you mean about Merlin lying?' Leon pressed, evidently confused. 'And why were Gaius and Hunith in danger?' He looked back and forth between the two of them and noticed that Percival seemed equally confused. Elyan, on the other hand, looked less shocked at Gwaine's excursion.

Arthur glanced at the castle and then back at his men. If he was going to defeat Tiden, then he needed help. Who better than his best knights? But if they were going to help, they had to have some understanding of what was going on. Quickly, biting back all his anger and betrayal, he filled the knights in on what he knew, with Gwaine and Elyan –much to Arthur's annoyance- filling in a few missing details. It took no more than a minute, but it still felt like time was trickling away. Their shock was clear, and hesitantly, Leon confirmed that Merlin hadn't been in his chambers all night. Arthur had almost forgotten that he'd asked the knight to spy on his former manservant. He pushed the thoughts aside.

'We need to stop him before he turns Albion into a war zone,' Arthur finished. 'Are you with me?' The men nodded, delivering their affirmations. The knights quickly discarded their Camelot robes in an attempt to blend in, and then the small group moved forward.

They made quick work of the courtyard. Where possible, they tried only to injure men, but it soon became clear that any injured man was as good as dead when thrown back into the mob of soldiers. So it was that they changed tactics and tried instead to simply push the men far enough back that they could get past. Sometimes that involved a skirmish, at other times it was a simple kick or punch. The problems came when the soldiers began to recognise who Arthur was. Arthur would see it in their eyes, for a split second there would seem to be some sort of focus in them. To these men, Arthur did deliver stronger blows in the hope of distracting their attention. It got them away from him, but probably signed their death warrants as they returned, disorientated, into fray.

Eventually, they reached the steps and fought their way up as a unit. Being in full control of their bodies and also being highly skilled warriors meant that making their way through the castle surrounded by soldiers who weren't fighting at their very best was quite straightforward, but it was slow work.

Even so, they soon found themselves moving through the upper levels, eventually reaching the corridor where Tiden's room was. Arthur's instincts told him that the King would be there. It was away from the fighting, away from everything.

They rounded the corner carefully to find several guards sprawled out on the floor. Arthur frowned. What had happened to them? He was willing to bet that Merlin hadn't been able to disarm a dozen heavily armed men. Had someone else got to Tiden first? They crowded around the door and then Arthur looked across at each of them in turn. With a final nod, they crashed through the door, their swords drawn, their muscles tensed. They stopped at what they saw. Tiden stood up straight at the back of the room, while another man knelt beside him, and Merlin was stood in front of the King, seemingly in the middle of talking to him. His manservant turned as they entered and Arthur saw the fear shoot through his features as he saw who it was that had arrived.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, his fear palpable. Arthur ignored him and addressed Tiden instead.

'You will stop this attack on Camelot and on the other kingdoms now,' he said firmly. 'You are killing innocent people and bringing war to the land, and I will not allow it.' He faced off against Tiden, unrelenting in his gaze, but the King looked entirely unconcerned at Arthur's words.

'Get out of here, Arthur, and get away from the knights,' Merlin shouted. 'You're not safe. Gwaine,' he tried, when Arthur simply glared at him to shut up.

'Enough, Merlin!'

'You're in danger!' Merlin shouted. 'Get out!'

'Now Merlin,' Tiden said. Arthur saw Merlin tense up at the words, his eyes filled with some hidden and terrible understanding. 'I think it's time to us my final mark. The strongest of them all.'

'I won't let you,' he snarled, his attention completely gone from Arthur.

'You won't be able to stop me.'

Arthur had no idea what was going on and he was about to ask, when Merlin's whole body suddenly froze. He watched as the man's back began to arch, his limbs spreading out and shaking uncontrollably, strangled gasps of defiance being wrenched from his throat.

'Merlin?' Arthur asked in alarm. All earlier anger and distrust disappeared in the light of what was currently happening to the man he had called his friend for the past six years. He moved closer, but Merlin trembled even more violently, his face contorting. He let out a scream of pain that Arthur had never heard coming from him before and it sliced through him like blades of ice.

'What are you doing to him?' he demanded of Tiden, moving to attack the King, only to be met by some invisible shield that sent him careening backwards. He half expected one of the knights to help him up, but he felt no hands and so scrambled to his feet. 'Stop it, now! What are you doing to him?'

'It's not what I'm doing to him; it's what I'm taking from him,' Tiden explained, his voice quiet and calm, but somehow laced with something that Arthur couldn't quite distinguish. There was a depth and power to the words that didn't feel real. 'But,' the King continued, 'you have other things to worry about, young king.' Arthur frowned, but movement from behind caught his attention. He turned, meaning to organise his knights into some sort of formation ready for whatever attack was awaiting them, but he quickly realised that no help would becoming from them. They were stood, each of them, in a defensive stance, their faces blank and their eyes empty.

Merlin had been right…again, Arthur realised.

That was the only thing he had time to consider before Percival jumped forward. Arthur just about managed to cut through his shock in order to bring his blade up and meet the blow that fell towards him.

Seconds later, they had all joined the fray.

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! They've been great to read and I'm glad the cliff-hanger has kept you on your toes. The end of this chapter might have a similar effect! This chapter was tricky to write, but hopefully it's clear what's going on. A couple of people have made some guesses as to what might happen, and a lot will be revealed now!

Also, you'll notice that I'm updating early again! That's because I've finished writing the story! The last chapter took me forever, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. All I've got to write now is the epilogue. So I can officially say that this story will be 29 chapters long, plus an epilogue!

Anyway, enough from me. Here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 26 **

Arthur was under no illusions. This was a battle that he simply couldn't win. It wasn't that he doubted his skills as a swordsman; out of everything his role as king required him to do, fighting was the one thing that he had absolute confidence in. Many times throughout his kingship he had had to feign confidence in other areas, but never when it came to combat. He was an excellent swordsman.

But even so, he was no match for four of his best knights. He had trained them, been trained by them on occasion. He had watched them hone their skills to near perfection and he knew that he would be equally matched when facing one of them, but when it came to fighting all four of them at the same time he stood no chance.

And yet, thirty seconds later, he found that he was still alive, still parrying blows, still ducking and jumping to avoid slashes in the small area of Tiden's room that wasn't occupied by the King, his advisor and a frighteningly pale Merlin who had sunk to his knees. Arthur didn't understand how it was that he hadn't been run through by now; it should have been almost instantaneous. He backed up several steps until he was in a more open section of the room, the dinning table being the main feature of the space. Unwilling to use it as a shield, knowing that the knights would just attack from both sides, he kicked it back, opening the space. As the knights moved forward, Arthur began to understand why he was still alive. Whatever enchantment they were under was dampening their skills, just as it had with the other fighters throughout the castle.

Soon, they were on him again, but Arthur became more and more aware of the flaws in their technique. For one, they weren't fighting as a team. There was no attempt to communicate, no carefully considered movements for another knight to follow through on. There was no doubt that they were fighting for the same reason, but they were not fighting together. It gave Arthur time between attacks. He could move, force them to block each others' path, cause them to mess up each others' blows. But it was more than that. The knights simply weren't fighting to their potential.

Elyan's finessed and lightening quick attacks were slower and clumsier than usual. He delivered a side swipe to Arthur, one that, under normal circumstances, would have caught him before he could bring his sword up from parrying a blow that Leon had delivered, but the movement was slow enough that Arthur could meet the blow and even twist his sword in order to force Elyan back a few steps.

Gwaine's somewhat unorthodox style –mostly picked up from his history of bar fighting- became much more predictable than was usual. He charged at Arthur, having previously backed up several steps from a kick to the chest that Arthur had delivered while side-stepping a slash from Elyan. Arthur waited for him to get closer, knowing that the knight usually feinted at the last second, but instead the man came straight at him, allowing Arthur to block and jab, forcing him back once more. He was quickly replaced by Leon, but the man's usually perfect execution of Camelot's traditional fighting stances was full of mistakes. Arthur watched incredulously as the man leaned to the right as he moved to attack, making his intentions obvious. He was soon sprawled on the floor, his attack having been predicted and then met with a much more precise response.

It was perhaps Percival who caused the most problems through the sheer force of his attacks. His strength was by no means diminished, but his control over it was tenuous. Some blows that he delivered were so heavy that Arthur felt his arm vibrate with them, but they weren't particularly focussed. The knight would put all his weight behind them and stagger if Arthur deflected it.

Seeing a chance, Arthur decided to use that strength against Percival. He waited for the knight to come to him, deflecting blows from Elyan and Leon, and pushing Gwaine back into both of them in the meantime. Percival charged, but with a deft sidestep and a shove, Arthur sent him careering off to the side, tripping him as he did. The man crashed hard into the dining table, a sickening crack echoing around the room, and then lay still. Arthur only hoped that there was no major damage, but there was little time to consider the alternatives. The others were back on their feet. One down, three to go.

* * *

Merlin couldn't remember anything ever making him feel as helpless as he did kneeling in agony on the floor of Tiden's chambers. From the moment the man had initiated the link that the oath created, Merlin felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside, as if his magic was collecting in the very centre of his body, before being wrenched from him. The sensation of his magic -magic which he had always felt held the very essence of who he was together- being taken was excruciating. It felt like fire was twisting through him.

For several moments, all Merlin could do was endure the agony, which was as much to do with pain as it was to do with the grief of losing such an integral part of himself. He was vaguely aware of Arthur's shouting voice and then he felt a shift in his magic, felt it being used and turned to someone else's intentions. Automatically, his own instincts fought to regain control, but it was useless. Realising he couldn't stop it, he tried to block it, throwing everything he had into creating a barrier which could stop Tiden from being able to draw on his strength, but it did nothing except cause Merlin more pain. Before he knew it, Tiden had twisted the magic to his purposes and Merlin could sense how it was being used. Though he was helpless to prevent it, he knew that Tiden had taken control of the knights.

But that wasn't all he knew. Somehow, through the link that Tiden had forged, Merlin could also sense how the magic was being used across the castle. It was at that point that he had found himself crashing onto his knees, finally understanding the sheer hopelessness of his situation as he became aware of the magical potential in the room.

He could sense where the magic was coming from. It was as if a part of him could comprehend things beyond his immediate surroundings. He could follow seven lines of magic that twisted and centred on Tiden. The King's magic and Merlin's made up a strand each, while those of Steven and his men, wherever they were, also flowed in like threads of magical power, curling around each other to create an incredibly powerful source. And all of that power was at Tiden's disposal.

Desperation flowed through Merlin as he saw Tiden's inevitable victory approaching. Even if, by some miracle, Arthur survived the fight with his knights, there was no way he could take on all the soldiers in the castle, and now Tiden could direct them straight to this room. He could bring hundreds of soldiers and instruct all of them to kill Camelot's king. He was linked to all of them through the enchantment. Merlin could feel the way the magic flowed not only into Tiden, but also out of him; could sense the hundreds of threads of magic connecting to each of the soldiers that were under the enchantment. The reach of Tiden's influence was frightening.

A crash from somewhere beyond the confines of his magical prison diverted his attention to the room he was in and to Arthur's danger. As if looking through a haze, Merlin saw Percival lying on the floor and Arthur, breathing heavily and looking tired, still somehow facing off against his most skilled knights. The smallest trickle of hope filled Merlin, but it was quickly replaced by a searing flash through Merlin's mind as Tiden drew more power from him. Merlin felt more of the knights in Camelot fall under the enchantment and begin making their way up to the room: ten, twenty of them; all of them being told to kill Arthur. He couldn't survive that.

On the other side of the room, Merlin heard Gwaine yell, before promptly falling silently, but a glance told Merlin that, while Gwaine _had_ been knocked out, Arthur had also been injured. He clutched his arm tightly, just about managing to parry the other blows that headed towards him. Again, Merlin fought to pull back his magic, to block its path to Tiden, but it was useless.

Anger filled him at his continued helplessness and without thinking he reached for the stream of magic, throwing himself into it to try and wrest control from Tiden that way, but while it didn't break the link, Merlin felt the slightest amount of control pass to him.

It wasn't control that he could do much with, but it was an advantage that he hadn't realised he had moments ago. He could force more magic into the link. He wasn't able to pull it back, the flow was engrained within the link, but he _could_ force more magic into it. The moment of elation quickly turned to despair. How could that help him? The last thing he wanted to do was give Tiden more power, but maybe…

He felt resolve fill him. If it didn't work, he could always stop, but if it did work…

Fighting through the pain, ignoring Arthur's ragged breaths and focussing on the link, Merlin began to force more of his magic towards Tiden. Tiden could evidently handle large amounts of power flowing through him, but Merlin was willing to bet that he hadn't realised just how strong his most recent sorcerer really was. It took no more than a few seconds for Tiden to understand what was happening. For a moment, Merlin sensed -and he had no idea how it was possible- the King's confusion, which quickly turned into smug satisfaction.

_You have decided to join us, Merlin? _he asked wryly, the message reaching Merlin as if it was travelling through the connection they currently had. It was evident from his smug tone that he knew what Merlin's plan was. _Your arrogance is surprising, _he continued, _you can not over power me._

Merlin didn't reply, he refused to give the man the satisfaction of an argument. Instead, he forced more power into the link and, as he did, he felt his strand begin to tremble, dispersing a thin sliver of excess magic. Hardly daring to hope, Merlin reached out for the escaped tendril of magic, calling it back to himself. Slowly, as if it was under two opposing loyalties and was wavering between them, the small whisper of magic that had broken free from the oath's connection moved back towards Merlin, lodging itself in a place that was outside the control of the link. Elation flowed through him, and he pushed harder with his magic, forcing more and more of it through the link, feeling the escaped remnants gathering inside him. They were only the tiniest amount at the moment, but it would not take long for them to grow.

But his small stash of magic –magic which Tiden didn't seem to be aware of- was not the only change that Merlin felt coming over him. Something about being so surrounded by magic, the intensity of it in the room, even if he wasn't in control of it, was beginning to affect his mind, the way his thoughts moved, how they formed. He could still think clearly, but it was as if underneath that clarity, his mind was twisting and writhing, clawing its way through every recess, searching for something.

His memories.

He knew, without knowing how, that his mind was desperately attempting to retrieve them, that they were within his grasp. A feverish determination came over him. He needed more magic, he needed to be able to use more of it, he needed anything that could help his thoughts and memories disentangle themselves from whatever prison they were being held in. He needed to be able to heal himself.

With a yell, he forced even more power into the link, power which surprised him, but it did what was needed. He felt more excess magic trickling back to him, building on the supply that he had gathered. It would take only moments more.

It was at this point, however, that Tiden's smug confidence began to waver. Merlin could sense it through the link, could see that the sheer amount of power was beginning to be too much for the King. He was fighting to redistribute it quickly enough, throwing it into the knights who were heading their way, trying to get rid of the sudden surge that he was being faced with.

But Tiden was not a man who took being made a fool of lightly, he was not a man who would allow himself to lose. Merlin knew this, knew it after seeing it demonstrated in all its malevolence over the last few days. And so, while Merlin railed against the King's next moves, they didn't surprise him.

All of a sudden, Merlin felt the magic that Tiden had been using being distributed in slightly different ways. Ways that Merlin understood instantly. Soldiers in the courtyard, at least twenty of them, suddenly broke off their attacks and headed in unison towards one of the watchtowers.

_I am sending them to kill your friend,_ Tiden whispered, though he didn't use words: it was more like impressions that floated through the magic. Either way, Merlin understood the threat, understood the blackmail. Peter. Peter was somewhere in that watch tower, injured, alone and helpless with soldiers heading his way. He stood no chance and Merlin felt panic fill him.

But that wasn't the only threat that he became aware of. In the room, Arthur was still facing off against Leon and Elyan and he was rapidly weakening. Silently, the two discarded swords, those of Percival and Gwaine, rose in the air, twisted and angled themselves towards the fighting King. Evidently, Tiden no longer cared for the irony of a Camelot knight killing their king. He was going to do it himself.

_Stop what you are doing, _Tiden snarled. Merlin felt the words resonate towards him, infused with Tiden's evil intent, _or I will kill both of them._

Merlin made his decision then and there. He had succumbed to Tiden's lies and blackmail too many times already, it was the only reason all of this was happening. He would not do it again. A sudden peace settled on him; a peace borne of the certainty that he was strong enough to stop Tiden from killing Arthur and Peter, and anyone else; a conviction that he had abilities and powers and skills that would be unmatchable if only he could remember them. Something that he intended to do.

_I'd like to see you try, _he replied.

A split second was all it took for Merlin to put into action his final retaliation. With the magic that he had managed to filter from the strand, he did two things. The first was to send half of it into his mind, latching it onto the attempts that his thoughts were already making to retrieve his memories. The second was to send the rest of the magic towards the swords that were now flying towards Arthur.

In less time than it took to utter a sound, Merlin had done both.

The swords fell to the ground with a clatter and remained there, and his mind fused itself back together.

Instantly, his head exploded with images; they flowed in as if they had been kept back by a dam that had suddenly been thrown open. Places and people and sounds and emotions and events all spilled into his mind, filling empty spaces that he hadn't realised had been there. They swirled and twisted, each one slotting itself into its rightful place, with all the memories before and after aligning themselves, until his life worked from beginning to end, with each part memorised and known.

He knew exactly who he was.

He knew that he was Merlin.

He knew that he was the last Dragon Lord.

He knew that he was Emrys.

And he knew that Tiden didn't stand a chance.

Memories of his magic flowed back to him in a split second; understanding of his abilities that went far deeper than anything he had suspected during the last few months.

Merlin stood to his feet, the pain diminishing somehow and his resolve strengthening. Without hesitation, he took all the magical power that was inside him, all the power that had been hidden from his understanding without his memories, and sent it down the strand towards Tiden.

The effect was terrifying in its destruction. The strand fractured instantly, sending a raging flood of power towards Tiden and shattering the other connections. On the floor, Steven yelled out in agony, clutching at his head as remnants of Merlin's magic raced into his mind. So too, Merlin sensed, did Steven's men. For a moment he knew where they were in the castle and knew that they were in just as much torment as Steven. A split second later, all those connections had severed. In the rest of the room, Leon and Elyan fell to the floor, motionless, the enchantment having been broken. All around the castle, Merlin discerned -through the last flickers of the links- soldiers and knights falling to the ground, their minds unable to cope with the sudden release. They would heal quickly, that he knew.

But it was Tiden who took the brunt of the attack. Merlin watched as the man's body contorted in agony. He could sense the magic swirling around the man, overwhelming his body. At first, Merlin couldn't understand why the magic didn't dissipate, until he remembered the shield that Tiden had placed around himself. A shield that he had undoubtedly fuelled with the magic he had taken from others. Reaching out carefully with his senses, Merlin could feel his surge keeping the shield in place, while Tiden was forced to endure the agony of all that power reflecting constantly off the barrier to torment and destroy him. He was trapped in a prison of his own making, being tortured by the very power he had sought to control. The man's body trembled; his mouth opened in a silent cry.

Merlin could sense the magic losing its strength and potency, but it would not be soon enough for Tiden. The man's body gave a sickening jerk and then crumpled lifeless to the floor; overcome by the raw power that it had been exposed to.

For several seconds Merlin could not move. He remained still, his body slick with sweat and his hand outstretched in front of him from when he had sent the power towards Tiden. But a shifting from the side of the room brought him out of his frozen state. He turned his head, confused as to what had caused the movement.

His hand dropped instantly and he stumbled to the side as he realised what it was –who it was.

Arthur, staring at him wide eyed with fear.

He had seen it all.

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	27. Chapter 27

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N Thank you so much for all the reviews; I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Another quick update for you as we draw to a close! Let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 27**

Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Merlin scrambled to find something –anything- he could say that would make the situation better, that would put Arthur at ease, that would stop the revelation from completely destroying whatever trust Arthur still had in him, but there was nothing.

Now that his memories were back, now that he knew everything, remembered everything, understood everything, he realised that there was absolutely nothing he could do to change the look that Arthur was currently directing at him.

Fear.

Merlin didn't remember Arthur ever looking at him like that. Never had Arthur been afraid of him, but then what cause had he ever had to be fearful? In Arthur's eyes, Merlin was a clumsy, weak and relatively useless servant. He had never been a symbol of anything even remotely powerful and now…Merlin didn't know what the previous display had looked like to Arthur, but he was willing to bet that weakness hadn't come into it.

He looked around the room, saw the destruction that had been wrought and knew that anything Arthur had thought of him before had succumbed to the same destruction. On the floor, Tiden lay dead, his face still contorted in pain; to the man's right, Steven was curled on the ground, he was conscious, but his eyes were glazed and unmoving, as if he had gone into some sort of shock. Either way, Merlin doubted he would pose a problem, at least for the next few minutes. In one way that was a good thing: it meant that Merlin wouldn't have to use more magic in front of Arthur in order to make sure that Steven could be subdued; on the other hand, it meant that Merlin had no choice but to talk to his friend of so many years, who now looked more like a stranger.

He looked back at the King and saw that Arthur's eyes hadn't left him, although he _had_ hesitantly staggered forward a few steps, avoiding the four unconscious knights that were spread about the floor. He was still holding his arm which was bleeding quite a lot, although not enough that Merlin felt particularly worried. To be honest, there was nothing he was more worried about at that moment than having to say something to Arthur or having Arthur say something to him.

'You…?' Arthur began, but he stopped there, his head shaking, his face pale, his eyes full of incomprehension. And over all of it was fear.

'Arthur,' Merlin said quietly, as if he was speaking to a creature that might, at any moment, attack him or run from him. Neither was a response that Merlin wanted. Nothing else was said for several more moments, until the silence seemed to form a shield around them, blocking them from the outside world, leaving just the two of them and everything that currently stood in the space between.

Eventually, Arthur's eyes dropped from Merlin, just for a second. It seemed to break the tension that was holding them still and in place, only to be replaced by a new tension that demanded an explanation.

'Was that…was that magic? You learnt how to use magic in Cyathia?' Arthur asked him. His voice trembled, ever so slightly. Merlin could see the irritation flash across the King's eyes at his weakness. He repeated the question, more anger behind the words now. Merlin, however, found that his heart began to race even faster at the question as another possible explanation was presented to him. He could tell Arthur that he had learnt magic in Cyathia, he could explain it as yet another mistake that his memory loss had caused him to make. It wouldn't mend their relationship; it wouldn't help to dissipate Arthur's anger; it wouldn't make up for any of the things that he had done since returning to Camelot.

But it _would_ preserve the illusion of their previous relationship.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the whispers of temptation began to twist through it. With his memory fully intact once more, Merlin felt the shame of what he had done more intently than he had ever imagined possible. But it was his stupidity that most repulsed and disgusted him. The naivety that he had displayed from the moment Steven and James had pulled him out of the river. He had trusted people blindly; he had ignored obvious warning signs; he had let himself be used as nothing more than a puppet in Tiden's schemes. He had been a fool and, while it hadn't, in the end, destroyed Camelot, it _had_ cost him everything in his relationship with Arthur.

But maybe, just maybe, he had chance to salvage something of it.

'Merlin!' Arthur said, and this time he shouted the word, making Merlin jump. 'Did you learn how to use magic in Cyathia?'

Merlin looked at Arthur, looked at his friend's pleading eyes, looked at the uncertainty in the way his king held himself and knew that whatever he said now, regardless of everything that had happened today, Arthur would believe him.

'No,' he said quietly, 'I didn't learn how use magic.' For a moment, he saw relief trickle into Arthur's face; the man evidently misunderstanding Merlin's words, convincing himself that whatever he had seen hadn't been Merlin using magic, but Tiden making a mistake with his own. Merlin pressed on before Arthur could really begin to hope. In the end, the one thing that he knew he owed Arthur, no matter how painful it might be, was the truth. 'I've always had magic, Arthur, from the moment I was born.' He took a deep breath and uttered the words that had haunted him for so long. 'I'm a sorcerer.'

* * *

Arthur found that he couldn't move. Nothing that Merlin had done over the last few weeks, nothing that he had admitted to earlier that evening could even begin to come close to the intensity of the emotions that enveloped him at Merlin's quiet words. He felt a shudder go through him, one of total fear that he could not shake.

His eyes remained on Merlin, and even if had he wanted to, he couldn't have changed their gaze, everything in him had stopped; all thoughts had ceased, all movement had been halted, all understanding had been utterly obliterated. Because what understanding could there possibly be, what constants could exist in his life, what fundamental truths could he live by if something so completely impossible was actually real?

He looked at Merlin -nothing else existed at that moment- and saw him standing there in the same clothes he had worn since his arrival, save for the blood on them; holding himself in the same stance as he had done every day in Arthur's service, even if this time he seemed a little more weary than usual; looking at those same eyes that had watched everything with him for so many years, even if they had glowed gold moments ago, and Arthur could not believe what he had just heard and seen.

Without meaning to, Arthur found that he was shaking his head. He stopped himself, but that left only silence and emptiness which seemed even more frightening because of what they had stemmed from.

'You…?' he managed, but the word stuck in his throat and he had to clear it. Even when he had, he found that he couldn't say anything; his voice wouldn't work, he knew that if he spoke, the words would shake, whether from fear or shock or hurt, he didn't know, but that was not acceptable. He had to show strength at all times.

But what strength could he possibly boast in when faced with the display that he had just seen? Merlin had done that. Whatever he had done, he had managed to overthrow a sorcerer who had taken control of several hundred men; he had obliterated him. Arthur had felt the power in the room, at least in some way; he had been overwhelmed by it, even if he couldn't completely understand it. But either way, it had made him feel small and weak. And Merlin had been the one wielding it.

'Arthur,' Merlin said gently, taking the smallest step forwards. Arthur found that his reaction was out of his control; he backed up several steps, bringing his sword up and holding it out warningly. Of all the enemies and oppositions he had faced, none had frightened him as much as Merlin speaking his name and stepping forwards did now. Arthur hated the weakness he was showing, hated how vulnerable and defenceless he felt, but he couldn't help it. What did this say about the last six years? Had magic really been so close to him all this time; been used on him; shaped him as a king? Had his entire kingship been built on the foundations of magic? Because if Merlin had magic, then he couldn't deny that thought. He had relied on Merlin time and time again, trusted him, listened to him, looked to him for support. And he had magic.

But this was Merlin. Merlin! How was that possible? He suddenly found that the betrayal of earlier had faded into nothingness. A Merlin without a memory could be forgiven; it seemed so trivial to Arthur, now; so ridiculous that he had reacted so strongly to the earlier confessions. When compared to this, the mistakes of someone who couldn't remember his past seemed insignificant.

But the lies and deceit of someone who had been Arthur's closest friend for years seemed insurmountable.

And so he moved backwards; moved away from the broken trust and the unexplainable power and the irretrievable past.

Merlin stopped instantly and Arthur saw familiar emotions cross his face: hurt, pain, regret. He refused to let them reach him; they were too much like Merlin, too much of a reminder of the person that Arthur had thought he had known. A shadow of a lie; a shadow that was fast fading as the truth rose on a new and very different day.

'Arthur,' Merlin began again. 'I would never hurt you.'

Arthur found his head shaking again and stopped it, but he still found that his voice was lacking. For a moment, Merlin seemed to unconsciously move forwards, but he caught himself and remained where he was.

'Listen to me.' He stopped there, evidently expecting an argument, but Arthur had none to give. 'I remember everything now. So I know what you must be thinking.' Emotions were beginning to cloud his words; his voice cracked slightly, jumping up and down. 'And I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry, but I didn't think I had a choice. I wanted to help you and protect you, but I didn't know what you'd do if you knew the truth. I couldn't risk leaving you on your own.'

Arthur absorbed the words, but he found that a battle raged inside him. One half was responding to the familiarity in Merlin's tone -gentleness and sincerity- while the other half fought back with the new knowledge that he had and with every thought that he had ever connected to magic: its treachery, its corruption, its deceit.

'Arthur?' Merlin asked, and there was desperation in the words now.

A groan from the floor made Arthur, for the first time in many minutes, look away from Merlin to see Elyan and Leon beginning to stir. Percival and Gwaine were still motionless, but then they _had_ taken quite heavy blows to the head: Percival against the table and Gwaine against the hilt of Arthur's sword.

'They're waking from the enchantment,' Merlin whispered.

Cautiously, Arthur knelt down, keeping Merlin in sight at all times, but the man didn't move.

'Leon,' he said, his voice weak, but working nonetheless. He gently shook the knight's shoulder. His eyes flickered open and he swallowed several times.

'Sire?' he asked. 'What…?' He frowned, looked around and then sat bolt upright. 'What happened?'

'You don't remember?' Leon shook his head in bewilderment. Beside him, Elyan had also sat up. 'Elyan, what do you remember?'

'I…' He frowned. 'I remember coming in here with you and then…' he shook his head. 'Nothing.'

'Sire, what happened?'

Arthur filled them in quickly, watched their horror as they heard of what they had done to Arthur.

'Arthur, I'm so sorry,' Elyan said quickly, Leon echoing the words.

'You didn't know what you were doing,' Arthur assured them, although he heard the hypocrisy in his words. He glanced up at Merlin to see the man looking at him with sorrow. There was no accusation, just grief.

'But Tiden. How…?' Leon asked, turning round to search out the man, but instead he beheld Merlin.

'Merlin?' Elyan turned as well. The two knights looked uneasily between their king and his manservant, evidently confused by his silence up until now and becoming aware of the tension between the two. Wisely, they decided to say nothing.

'What happened to Tiden? How did you defeat him?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin stiffen, his eyes closed briefly as he took several deep breaths, but then his gaze returned to Arthur. Reluctantly, Arthur met the man's eyes and saw the grim acceptance on his face. Whatever he said now, Merlin would not try and deny it.

But where did that leave Arthur? He had thought it would be easy. The knights deserved to know the truth, everybody deserved to know the truth. _He_ had deserved to know the truth! And yet to speak it out; to take it outside of just himself and Merlin was to make it irrefutable and undeniable. Arthur was the King; he had laws to uphold, laws which would see Merlin executed. A swell of emotion swept through him and he felt, just for a moment, his head go light. He could see it in his mind: Merlin burning on a pyre, screaming in agony and yet enduring it because it had been Arthur's decision, just as he was standing waiting for whatever his king decided now. Even the thought of it made a wave of nausea pass through Arthur. Across the room, Merlin's head bowed in acceptance.

'Arthur?' Elyan pressed. Arthur swallowed several times and then resolutely looked away from Merlin.

'I don't know,' he said quickly. 'Something must have gone wrong with his magic.' He saw Merlin's head snap up at the words, but ignored him. This protection didn't mean anything; it just gave Arthur more time to decide exactly what he was going to do. Yet he couldn't help but notice a weight lifting from his chest as he said the words. Neither Elyan nor Leon seemed completely convinced by Arthur's explanation, but a sense of urgency seemed to distract their misgivings.

'Sire, we must explain what has happened. Soldiers have been killed, they will be preparing for another battle, this time in full awareness,' Leon said hurriedly. Arthur nodded his agreement. He was finding it hard to focus on what needed to be done. His head was too full of other things.

'Elyan, help Gwaine and Percival,' Arthur instructed. The knight nodded and unsteadily got to his feet.

'Leon, with me. We need to find the knights.' The man nodded.

'There are four other men around Camelot,' Merlin said. He still hadn't moved. 'Steven's men. Do you know who they are?' he asked Leon. His voice was empty of emotion, but somehow full of weariness.

'Yes, they've been in the training grounds.'

'They're the sorcerers who helped with the enchantment. There's something wrong with them at the moment; they'll be easy to capture. You need to find them.'

'You know where they are?' Leon asked, heedless of the mounting tension in the room as Arthur found himself unable to acknowledge the help that Merlin was giving, his mind screaming against it, while the other part of him could do nothing but remain silent. He listened as Merlin recited the places where the men were. Arthur didn't want to know how he knew, but Leon asked nothing. Instead, he nodded his thanks before dragging Steven to his feet and hauling him out of the room.

Arthur made to follow, turning his back on Merlin. Even if he had lied to Elyan and Leon, he knew that he should have Merlin arrested and thrown into the dungeons, but after seeing what he could do with magic, he doubted that the dungeons would hold the man if he decided to walk out. From what Arthur could guess, Merlin could cause whatever damage he wanted without meeting a challenge.

From deep within his mind, a small voice whispered that Merlin was not a threat. He tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but it was persistent and was attached to a sentiment that Arthur had so long taken as a deeply engrained truth. For now, he would listen to the words.

'Arthur.'

He paused by the door, but he didn't turn round. Merlin seemed to take his halt as a sign to talk.

'What do you want me to do?'

Arthur felt a dark humour rise in him at the question. What did he want Merlin to do? More than anything, he wanted Merlin to go back to their first meeting out on the target practice field and just walk past. He wanted Merlin to tell him that it was all an elaborate ruse on Tiden's part and that he didn't really have magic and he wasn't really a sorcerer. He wanted Merlin to be the same Merlin that he had thought he'd known. For weeks he had thought that was possible, but now it was nothing more than a withered hope.

'What do you want me to do?'

Arthur turned back to him; saw the desolation covering him like a shroud. He distantly wondered if he'd see the same were he to look in a mirror.

'I don't know,' he replied, shaking his head. He left, shutting the door behind him; his heart filled with despair as he realised how relieved he felt to be walking away.

* * *

Merlin watched the door shut behind Arthur and felt his shoulders sag. He hadn't realised how stiffly he'd been holding himself for the last few minutes, but his muscles ached. He sighed heavily and took several steps forward, finally feeling as if he wasn't chained to the spot.

'Merlin, are you alright?' Elyan asked. He was carefully tending to Gwaine, putting a pillow under the man's head and attempting to rouse him, before doing the same for Percival.

'I'm fine,' he nodded, but he had to repeat the words again so that they could be heard.

'You were right then? Steven had a plan.'

'He did, Tiden too.' He moved closer and knelt down beside Elyan, wondering if he could subtly whisper a spell to wake Gwaine.

'And you and Arthur?' He said it casually, busying himself with rearranging his friend's body so it wasn't in such an awkward position. Merlin said nothing, just shook his head when Elyan turned.

'He'll come round; he always does.' Again Merlin said nothing, deciding instead to pursue a different topic of conversation as the first glimmer of hope sparked in him.

'Did Gwaine find my mother and Gaius?' Elyan turned with a smile, nodding quickly.

'Just as you said.'

'They're in Camelot?' he asked, surprised at how strong his voice was, when compared to a little while back.

'Hidden somewhere, I think, while the fighting was on. Gwaine didn't want them hurt.'

The slight flicker of joy evaporated instantly as the last word echoed through his head. _Hurt._

Peter!

Merlin jumped to his feet instantly.

'What is it?' the knight asked in alarm. Merlin was already halfway to the door.

'Peter,' he called as he left the room.

As he flew through the hallways, passing dazed soldiers who were in various states of recovery –some leaning against walls, others helping comrades up, yet more looking around in fearful confusion, while others knelt beside fallen friends, their grief palpable- Merlin found his mind consciously turning away from what had transpired between himself and Arthur. Too much contemplation on the subject was likely to send Merlin spiralling into a very dark place and, after everything that he had been through of late, he wasn't entirely sure he could cope with that. Instead, he focussed entirely on his current task. He had to find Peter, help him, save him. He would not let Peter's fate be the same as James' had been. He refused to lose yet another person due to Tiden's malevolence.

And so he ran through Camelot, seeing it, remembering it, feeling connected and yet so disconnected from it all, and found himself stumbling through the doors that led onto the steps down to the courtyard. He pulled up sharp as he looked across. The moonlight and the many torches that had been lit painted a truly horrific picture. It looked like a massacre. There were bodies everywhere; their cloaks and armour decorated with the many colours of the represented kingdoms. But over all of it, a crimson shroud was laid. And not the bright, powerful crimson of Camelot –though it could be seen in various places – but the terrible and tragic crimson of life lost.

Merlin found that even his desire to get to Peter could not overpower the force of shock that held him in place as he looked out across the courtyard. And standing in the middle of all of it, Merlin saw the one person for whom this picture could very well destroy everything.

Arthur.

Some of the knights were picking their way through the bodies, evidently on Arthur's command, but the King seemed to be frozen in place. He turned his head slowly, as if in some sort of trance, and the flicker from the torch which he held illuminated his face enough for Merlin to see it shimmering like a ghost, filled with an incomprehension and despair that Merlin had only seen on a few occasions, each of them terrible, one of them having happened only a few minutes ago.

The desire in Merlin to go over there and offer some comfort was achingly familiar, but as his feet made to fulfil it, Arthur caught sight of him. The King's face was hard to make out, but Merlin thought, just for a moment, that there had been some sort of pleading in the man's expression, as if he wanted that support that Merlin had always given so willingly. But then he seemed to catch himself and he turned away, slowly making his way through the many dead.

Merlin made no move to go to him; he doubted it would help.

Carefully he picked his own way through the men that lay on the ground, heading towards the east watchtower, the one where he had seen Tiden directing soldiers through the enchantment. As he got closer, there were more soldiers recovering from their enchantment, evidently the men that Tiden had been sending to kill Peter. None of them paid him much heed as he reached the watchtower, however.

Cautiously he moved forwards. He had rarely been in this building. It was the only watchtower that wasn't used due to the fact that it required some major repairs. Now though, Merlin subtly used magic to open the locked entrance. It consisted of thick metal bars which protected it from unwanted intruders. The worn, stone stairs spiralled up almost immediately, but around the other side of them were several doors. Merlin headed to the one that seemed familiar to him from Tiden's taunting earlier. It wasn't exactly that he recognised it, but it just felt like he knew it. Whispering a few words to provide himself with a floating light, Merlin pushed the wooden door open, its hinges seeming to put up a fight, and found himself in a small room that was filled with empty storage barrels. It smelt stuffy and musty, as if nothing had been there for months, but when he looked at the ground by the light of his orb, he saw the telltale sign of footprints in the dirt and dust.

Following them, he came to a floor panel with a metal ring. The wooden boards around it were marked with several scuffed footprints and, without hesitation, Merlin pulled on the ring. The boards came away with a creaking of hinges to reveal a small storage cellar, only a metre deep and wide.

And there, curled up on himself, a gag in his mouth and his hands tied, was Peter. The boy looked up fearfully, but his eyes creased in a smile as he saw who it was. He closed them in what looked to be a silent prayer of thanks and then attempted to pull himself onto his feet, but he stumbled slightly. Instantly, Merlin's arms were there, looping under his shoulders and pulling him out of the hole to lean against two sturdy looking barrels. The boy gave several grimaces of pain as he was moved, which told Merlin that he was more hurt than he appeared to be. Quickly, he pulled the gag out of Peter's mouth.

'Peter?' he asked gently. He crouched beside the boy, one hand lightly placed on his shoulder as a small show of comfort. He was afraid to do any more in case he aggravated other hidden injuries. The light of the orb presented Merlin with a grim picture. Peter's face was bruised, one eye almost swollen closed beneath purple and blue skin. His hair was matted to his face on one side and there were several places where his clothes were ripped and bloodstained. He held himself stiffly, tension reverberating across his shoulders and, when Merlin muttered a spell to break the ropes around his hands, he instantly held the right arm tenderly with the left, keeping it close to his chest.

But even so, that didn't stop a bloodied grin from spreading across the boy's face as soon as the gag was removed. He looked at Merlin, gratitude and weariness more than evident.

'You look terrible,' he croaked. Merlin felt a smile creeping onto his face; it was the first one he remembered giving in a long, long time.

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	28. Chapter 28

**Beyond Recall**

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A/N: Thank you, as always for the reviews; I love reading them! This chapter is quite a long one, but I have been a bit mean at the end! You'll see what I mean! Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 28**

With difficulty, Merlin helped Peter to Gaius' chambers, knowing that there would be salves and medicines that could help with the pain and prevent infection from setting in. Merlin knew enough to be able to treat him and set him on his way to recovery. A quick examination had put some of Merlin's fears to one side. Peter was suffering from some very nasty wounds, but none of them were life threatening. They would take a while to completely heal, but he would be fine.

Even so, the pain he was in was no doubt excruciating. For one, he said nothing to Merlin as they made their way across the courtyard. It was busier now, with more soldiers beginning to identify and clear away the bodies. Thankfully, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. By time they reached the bottom of the wing where Merlin's quarters were located, Peter was white faced, sweat dripping down his face, and he gripped onto Merlin with vice like fingers. Every step was accompanied by a gasp, and yet he didn't complain or ask to stop, just continued on.

Eventually, the reached the door and Merlin pushed it open.

'Merlin!'

The sound of the voice stopped Merlin in his tracks. His grip on Peter didn't loosen, but he suddenly became less aware of it, like the world had faded out. He turned his head towards the voice, so familiar and so full of warmth that his chest began to ache. And then he saw her, standing nervously, her hands clasped in front of her chin as if she was praying, her face so full of joy that it made Merlin feel slightly light headed. And beside her stood Gaius, looking much older than Merlin remembered, and yet his eyes shone with a promise of youth in them.

'Mother?' Merlin whispered. He became aware of Peter's weight disappearing, the boy having propped himself up against the wall and used it as a support. Merlin took a step forward and then suddenly his mother's arms were round his neck, her tears soaking into his jacket, while Merlin felt his own, so many that he had held back over the last few hours, pour from his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, clinging desperately to her support and her love and her understanding. Clinging onto the sense of acceptance that she gave him; clinging onto the belief that she had in him.

'I thought you were dead,' she sobbed. 'My boy, I thought I'd lost you.'

'No,' Merlin choked, but the word was swallowed up by the desperate grief that flowed from him. He could hear his voice crying out, could hear himself pulling in shuddering breaths as he tried to breathe through the tears.

'I love you, my son. I love you so much,' she was saying, hugging him even tighter to herself. When Merlin finally pulled back, it was to find Gaius' arm around his shoulder. Merlin pulled him into an embrace instantly. The old man said nothing, but his shaking shoulders and the way he held Merlin to himself said enough. Merlin knew what he had put his mentor through, could sense the depth of the wound, one that was only beginning to close now.

Merlin moved back and looked at both of them, saw how much they loved him, how much they accepted him, how terrified and devastated they had been without him, and he felt a warmth –one that had been sucked from him with Arthur's rejection- returning.

'It's so good to see you both,' he managed. He realised that his mother's hand was still in his and she squeezed it tightly at the words, unable to speak, but nodding her agreement.

'Erm, Merlin,' came a pained voice from behind. 'I don't mean to interrupt, but I think I'm going to faint.' Merlin turned to see Peter do just that.

A while later, Merlin found himself sat in his room, staring at the wall unseeingly. Peter was resting peacefully in the main room, Gaius having treated his injuries and given him a sleeping draught to ensure a few hours of rest that would begin the healing process. Gaius had left soon after, his instincts and skills as a physician calling him out into the carnage of the castle -even if he _was_ half starved and dehydrated. While Peter was being treated, Merlin had helped his mother tidy the rest of the room from when Steven had –as Peter confirmed and recounted in great detail- attacked Peter and dragged him off to the watchtower prison. She had already begun the process before Merlin arrived. She and Gaius, on hearing that the fighting had stopped, had made their way from Gwaine's makeshift hiding place with a butcher in the lower town and come back to the castle in the hopes of offering help and finding Merlin.

Once they had finished tidying and Peter was asleep, however, Merlin found himself desperately wanting solitude, and so took himself to his room. His mother gave him time, but eventually she came in, sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulder.

'What is it?' she whispered after a few moments silence. Her head was resting against his, while her free hand swept away a few tears that had slipped down his cheeks.

'Arthur knows,' he said bluntly.

'What?'

'He knows I have magic,' he repeated tonelessly, but then tears crept into his voice and he looked desperately at her. 'And he hates me for it.'

'That isn't true.'

'It is, and it's not just that…' Before he knew it, Merlin had confessed everything to his mother, telling her all about Cyathia and Camelot; sharing all his confusion and fears, all his mistakes and failings, all his shame and regret. It took a long time, his words interspersed heavily with pauses as he tried to speak through his erratic breathing, as he had to repeat words that he couldn't find the strength to say the first time round, but his mother listened to everything. Her sympathy was evident in the way she took up his hand and kissed it, in the way she smoothed back his hair and the way she pulled him closer.

'He hates me,' Merlin finished, 'and he will never forgive me for this.'

'Arthur doesn't hate you and he _will_ forgive you.'

'You didn't see his face.'

'I didn't have to,' she pressed, more firmly this time. Merlin turned to her, willing to listen to what she had to say, but refusing to let himself hope in her optimism. He could still see Arthur's face, hear his words, sense his fear and anger. 'Merlin, when I thought you were dead…' her voice caught on the word.

'Mother, you don't have-' he tried.

'No, this is important. When I thought you were dead…' she shook her head and swallowed. '…I have never felt such despair, such darkness. It was like a pain Merlin, an agony that lived in my heart and in my soul-'

'I should have contacted you,' he murmured, his guilt swelling.

'No, I understand why you wanted to be in Cyathia, why you didn't want anything to take you away from that life.'

'But-'

'Listen to me,' she said softly, putting both hands up to his face to halt him. She lowered them again when Merlin nodded. 'As much as I hurt, as much as my mind couldn't comprehend anything, there was one thing that I kept on thinking over and over again. _What will Arthur do without you? _ It stayed with me at every moment, like it was part of my grief. You are meant to be here with him.

'He wants me gone. He told me. I don't even know if he'll be that lenient anymore. As king, he should be executing me.'

'Merlin.'

'He'll banish me at the very least.'

'Merlin, stop,' she whispered. 'If you truly think that, then you do not know Arthur as well as you think you do.'

'I've hurt him and I've betrayed him,' Merlin said softly. 'I've seen what that does to him; I've seen how it destroys him. He doesn't want to know me anymore.' Merlin could hear the defeat in his voice, the resignation, but a weight had settled on him, one that he could not shake and which seemed to blot out any hope of a future where he was there for Arthur.

'Do you remember what I said to you in Ealdor all those years ago? When Kanen attacked the village and Arthur came to help. Do you remember what I said to you about Arthur?' To his surprise, Merlin found a genuine laugh falling from his lips.

'I actually do,' he said. But the humour of his in tact memory quickly drained away. He shook his head. 'That doesn't stand anymore.'

'Yes it does,' his mother argued quietly. 'I told you back then that he needs you. Nothing has changed.'

'Everything has changed,' he whispered.

'Not when it comes to how important the two of you are to each other. You have spent years keeping Arthur alive with your magic, helping Camelot, protecting everyone. Your magic has served to cement Arthur's kingship and ensure Camelot's future. Don't let it pull the two of you apart.'

How?' Merlin asked. She looked at him and smiled, a smile so full of pride and love that Merlin found himself swallowing back his emotion.

'By being brave once more, my son, as you have always been.' Merlin shook his head, understanding what she meant and yet terrified at the thought of it. But his mother simply nodded in response. 'Go and talk to him.'

The simple suggestion suddenly seemed like the most difficult thing in the world.

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Standing in the courtyard, seeing Merlin on the other side of it at the top of the steps, Arthur had never felt a distance so keenly. Even if he had wanted to close the gap between them, he wouldn't have known where to begin. It was like looking at stranger, as if someone had taken control of Merlin's body, possessed it, leaving only a shadow of who Merlin had been.

And so Arthur had turned away. Again, voices were arguing in his head about whether or not the guards should arrest Merlin, whether he should be escorted to the dungeons, but somehow, in Arthur's mind, he didn't seem to be a danger anymore, not when compared to the destruction that had been poured onto his kingdom. And so he put Merlin out of his mind for now, instead focussing on the task at hand.

The disappointment of the talks paled in comparison to the utter despair he felt at the moment, looking around at the dead and dying soldiers that were scattered throughout the castle's grounds. All thoughts of an alliance and unity had been obliterated with this orchestrated treachery that Tiden had delivered to them. How many men had been killed? How many kingdoms had turned against each other through their soldiers? Perhaps a war had been averted for now, but it seemed that another was rising in the distance as recompense for these senseless attacks.

The country would turn against each other if Arthur didn't handle this correctly. At the moment that was all he needed to focus on. He spoke to several of the knights who seemed more recovered from their possession and gave them instructions. They were simple: help the wounded from all nations and ensure that they understood that their actions had not been their own; that magic had been involved and that the sorcerer responsible was dead. The last thing he needed was for soldiers to begin fighting in revenge. Their lack of memory of the events was the only blessing that Arthur could see in the situation: at least this way, they wouldn't remember who they had killed; the wounded wouldn't remember who their attacker was. Revenge was much more dangerous when it was personal; that was not possible for Tiden's victims.

Once he had given his instructions, he made his way down to the siege tunnels, knowing that, before long, soldiers and knights would begin asking where their leaders were. As Arthur walked through the castle, he found himself unusually inconspicuous. People didn't notice him; it helped that he was still dressed in the clothes he had borrowed from the lower town. Nobody even seemed to register that someone was walking past. Everyone seemed to be trying to help, treating those who were injured, distributing food and water. Arthur wasn't sure who had organised them, but the more he saw, the more he believed that the people were responding from a personal desire to help, not an order from someone else.

The anonymity gave him time to reorder his thoughts. He found that his initial shock from everything he had found out and seen had been replaced with an instinctual leadership. He could not allow his emotions to get the better of him. He was the King and, as such, he had to be able to tackle this situation with no distractions. It would take all his wisdom and resolve.

He reached the catacombs quickly, a torch from the dungeons in his hand –though his arm ached mercilessly from where Leon had slashed it, the bandage being a makeshift one- to find the siege door locked with no key in it. He lit the other sconces on the walls and then banged solidly on the door. Hearing no reply, he raised his voice.

'Guinevere, it's me.'

Instantly the lock clicked and the door was pulled open by Guinevere. The thankfulness on her face when she saw him was clear, and it was only then that he realised she wouldn't have had a clue where he was. As far as she had been concerned, he should have been waiting for her in the siege tunnel. He felt guilt flood him; his only thought had been to get to Merlin. Now, looking at her face, he could see the fear, uncertainty and utter relief. It was obvious that she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him. She restrained herself in light of the company, however, and settled for grasping his hand and squeezing it tightly. He gave her a small smile, suddenly finding it difficult to ignore the raging emotions he had fought to bury when faced with his wife's concerned expression. She knew something was wrong.

Before she could say anything, however, the monarchs behind began talking, all at the same time. Their voices quickly became a crescendo that echoed off the walls of the catacombs, making it impossible to distinguish any individual words. Behind them, the servants who had led them to safety were quieter, whispering amongst themselves.

'Please,' Arthur called. Unlike in the last meeting of the monarchs, this time they all fell silent, their faces both concerned and angered. They wanted to know what was happening. 'I will explain everything to you, but you must know that we stand at an impasse: our actions and decisions now will shape the future. Please think carefully about how you wish to proceed.'

The words were grave enough that no-one argued, even Chalere, who had always been so vocal in his disagreements with Arthur, remained silent, though it was obvious that he was ready to speak out at any moment. Choosing his words carefully, Arthur continued.

'Camelot, and all those currently visiting, have come under a magical attack from a sorcerer. I was warned of this attack less than an hour before it occurred and precautions were taken, as you know, to get all rulers to safety.' Arthur looked round, meeting the eyes of each one, but no-one said anything else. 'An enchantment was cast on soldiers and knights from all kingdoms; an enchantment that, as far as I can tell, has been put in place over the last few days without anyone knowing. Tonight, a sorcerer -who is now dead- took control of our soldiers with the aim of killing all rulers and blaming Camelot. With leaders nowhere to be found, however, the soldiers turned against each other.'

'What are you saying?' Queen Iola asked. Her voice was strong, but her face was pale in the light of the torches on the walls of the catacombs.

'There are hundreds dead,' Arthur replied quietly. A stunned silence sounded for a moment and then voices began to rise once more. Anger, disbelief, shock; all of them were evident in the tones the monarchs were using and all of them were directed at Arthur. Guinevere moved to stand beside him, her back straight and her head high. Even in her servant clothes, she looked every bit the wise queen. Arthur allowed the accusations to fly for a few moments more before calling the monarchs to order again. It was harder this time, but they listened.

'Arthur,' another voice continued. He looked to see the Queen of Gwynedd looking fearfully at him. 'My husband,' she said. 'He went out of the castle before the servant arrived to bring us here. I don't know where he is.'

'I will send someone to find him straightaway,' Arthur told her. He called a servant forward and quickly sent her to find Leon and tell him to search for King Gethin. 'If he was out of the castle, then we must hope he avoided the soldiers.' She nodded, but remained very pale. Arthur turned back to his guests. 'No doubt you wish to see to your men, and Camelot will offer every help in caring for the injured, but before you go, I ask you to restrain yourself from making accusations. The sorcerer who orchestrated this attack wanted a war, and though he is dead, it would be very easy for him to get his way. No-one is to blame for this attack save the one who instigated it. I ask you to remember that as you leave this place.'

'Who was this sorcerer?' Chalere asked, his voice brittle.

'King Tiden of Cyathia,' Arthur answered slowly.

'Tiden, a sorcerer?'

'Yes, and at least four of his men were helping him to carry out the enchantment. They are all locked up in the dungeons and are no danger to anyone. Whatever has happened to them seems to have put them in a trance-like state.'

'You expect us to believe-' Chalere began.

'Yes I do!' Arthur shouted, his voice unrelenting. 'I expect you to believe what I am saying because it is the truth! Camelot has long fought against sorcerers and made enemies who would destroy us. And so, yes, I expect you to believe that Camelot had nothing to do with this and that the threat has been removed.' His words left no room for argument. Arthur was not going to stand here and defend Camelot's actions, not when she had lost as many good men as everyone else, maybe even more considering the fact that Tiden had taken possession of Camelot's soldiers first. Several reports from soldiers had said that Camelot's men started attacking first, but past that they remembered nothing; that had been when their enchantment began. From what Arthur could tell, Tiden had managed to bewitch nearly every soldier in the city. Only handfuls of men had been found who remembered all that had happened and had been in full control of their actions. Most of them had attempted to get to their King or Queen to defend them.

'What of the Cyathians?' King Nyle asked.

'As soon as I return to the castle I am ordering their immediate arrest.'

'And what of their executions?'

'I do not believe the general population of Cyathia was aware of Tiden's plans or shared his views,' Arthur said quietly. He wasn't sure whether he really did believe that, he didn't know if he could trust any of them; the fact that they came from a kingdom of magic did not encourage him to give them the benefit of the doubt, but as it stood at the moment, he would not be executing anyone because of the actions of their King.

'So they'll walk free?'

'I will decide what happens to them. For now, we have more pressing things to deal with. Please remember what I have said. Under normal circumstance, this would lead to war. I do not want that to happen and neither, I believe, do any of you.'

No-one argued with that and so Arthur stepped aside, allowing them access to the stairs which would lead out of the dungeons and into the castle.

'One more thing,' Chalere said as he walked past Arthur. 'If this sorcerer was so powerful, then how was he destroyed?' The man's eyes pierced his, holding them completely. Arthur felt the question weigh in his mind. That was an answer that was not so simple to give.

'I was in the room as it happened,' he began slowly. 'I can't tell you what happened: one moment he was using his magic, the next he was screaming in agony on the floor. He died not long after. I can only guess that something went wrong.'

'Then we were very fortunate,' Chalere answered, his tone sharp with suspicion.

'Yes we were,' Arthur agreed.

As the Kings and Queens moved off, Arthur tried to reassure himself that he had only said that because the truth would have made the situation too complicated- there was no doubt that it would have done just that- but another voice, small but persistent, whispered that perhaps he was trying to protect Merlin. He pushed it aside violently. He was not protecting Merlin; the man had lost Arthur's friendship, trust and protection as soon as his lies were revealed.

No, this was not protection; it was merely a respite. Merlin would answer for what he had done, not now and not today. Arthur didn't know how he could face that along with everything else that had happened that night.

A red dawn broke over Camelot that morning, and for the rest of the day it was the only colour that Arthur seemed to see. The red of blood as injured soldiers were treated, and those who had lost their lives were either buried or their bodies prepared for the journey back to their home land.

The red of pain as King Gethin's body was discovered not far from the quarters that he had been staying in. Arthur had been the one to break the news to the man's wife, Guinevere with him to offer comfort as the widowed queen crumpled to the ground and sobbed. More pain as soldiers discovered their friends and comrades slain so senselessly.

The red of anger. It covered everything like shroud. Anger at faceless murderers who had taken friends and loved ones; soldiers' anger at themselves for the possibility of merciless actions that had been carried out. Anger at the sorcerer who had done it; anger at those who were associated with Tiden in any way, despite the fact that there were Cyathian soldiers amongst the dead. It seemed that Tiden had not wanted any suspicion cast upon his kingdom.

The Cyathians had quickly been rounded up and imprisoned, most of them offering no resistance; their shock and disbelief evident as they heard of Tiden's actions. In the end, however, it turned out that their imprisonment had been for their own safety. The fury directed at them from many individuals was terrible to behold. Arthur had trebled the guards in the dungeons -though that had been hard with so many lives lost and so many others helping with the fallout- and had instructed Leon to make sure the men could be trusted not to turn on the Cyathians. Only one remained unaccounted for: a stablehand who hadn't been seen at all since the previous afternoon. Arthur had put Gwaine on his trail.

As the day continued, it was the red of Camelot that haunted Arthur at every step. The banners, the cloaks, the crests. All of them the same red that had shaded the whole day. A red that he had put his hope and faith in; a banner that he had been proud to wave. And he was still proud to wave it, still proud to say that this was Camelot, but on that day, it was a pride that had to be replaced by humility. This tragic event had happened in _his_ kingdom, in _his_ city, a place that should have been one of safety to all that were gathered –he had promised as much. It was red that, for now, was tainted, and it broke Arthur's heart.

During the entire day, he had stopped only once when everything seemed to overwhelm him. He had retired to his chambers sat down on the floor, his back against the bed, and failed to hold back his tears. He made no noise, he didn't cry out or scream or sob, he simply sat there while tears ran down his face in a torrent, and nothing he did could stop them. It was then that Guinevere had come in, saw him and cried as well. She sat beside him, pulled his head down to her shoulder and held him as he gave into the terrible grief that was slowly consuming him.

He felt stupid when he finally stopped crying, tried to shrug his weakness off with strong words, but she didn't buy it and instead had asked him what had happened.

He told her most of it, told her how Merlin locked him in, how the knights had turned, how Tiden had been controlling them all, but when it came to Merlin's magic, he found himself leaving out the information. He wasn't sure why this time. Perhaps part of him worried that Guinevere would not react with the same anger he had; perhaps in saying it to someone else it would become even more of a truth than it already was. Either way, he told her the same thing he had told the Kings and Queens: that Tiden's magic had gone wrong. She didn't question him on it.

In the evening, there had been a meeting with the Kings and Queens, with the exception of Gethin's wife, who sent her apologies to Arthur, along with assurances that she did not hold him or Camelot responsible for what had taken place. The note had given him courage, courage which he had been grateful for throughout the meeting. People were angry, confused, desperate to blame somebody. Witnesses had been called in from all kingdoms, suspicion had been cast on various people, mistrust had blossomed in the tense room, but Arthur understood the grief and fear that fuelled it. He had gone straight to the heart of the disagreements, had tackled the sorrow that lived in them and the dark fears that were stirring at the thought of a bleak future. He had not tried to be a diplomat, he had not tried to create an alliance; he had simply stated the facts. That if everyone held on to the events of the day then it could only lead to one inevitable conclusion: war.

That had helped. The meeting had settled then, each person sharing their hurts, openly expressing their concerns, until at last they had ended the gathering in peace; one that Arthur hoped would disperse throughout all the people who had been involved in the attacks. It was funny, Arthur mused as the last of the rulers left the room, that only a day ago he had been hoping for an alliance between the kingdoms and now a resolve to avert a war seemed like the biggest victory. As the door closed, he slumped in his chair, utterly exhausted.

Guinevere had suggested that they retire early for the night, but Arthur had gently refused, instead taking himself up to the battlements. With one matter as resolved as was currently possible, Arthur now found that he had no choice but to start considering the other.

Merlin.

He was angry, he knew that much; he was furious for the lies that Merlin had been feeding to him for years and he was angry at himself for believing them. He had tried not to think about it throughout the day, but each time he had considered his blind trust in Merlin, he realised how many things he should have seen; how many strange disappearances and odd moments made more sense when Merlin and magic were considered as one. He had been a fool not to realise and he had been a fool to allow Merlin to get so close without ever questioning him.

Yes, he was angry, but past that he didn't know how he felt. A sort of numb acceptance had fallen on him. He now believed that Merlin had magic, but past yelling at him, he was undecided on how he should move forward.

He wasn't sure how long he was up there. It felt like several hours, but in the darkness of night it was hard to tell the passage of time. His thoughts didn't seem to be moving forward. Instead, his mind was stuck in a loop of images. Merlin hurling magic at Tiden, the power of the blow, Merlin uttering the words, _'I'm a sorcerer.'_ Those were the things that circled in Arthur's mind over and over again, giving him no clarity of thought; no clues as to how he should feel or react; no ideas on what he should do next, just a constant return to events that he had never guessed could be possible.

He was focussing once more on the magical battle that had gone on in Tiden's chambers when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He knew those footsteps; had walked with them in his shadow for years. They had never held any foreboding in them, but at that moment Arthur felt a dread settle in him. He turned, knowing who would be there, ghostlike in the moonlight.

Merlin.

It seemed the time for deliberating was over. Here, then, their next steps would be decided.

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	29. Chapter 29

**Beyond Recall**

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! They were greatly appreciated.

So here we are: the last chapter! I actually think the story would work without the epilogue, but I'm assuming you want to read it, so I will post it in a couple of days.

This chapter was really hard to write; I think it's the hardest one I've ever done, but I wanted to do it justice. So hopefully, they are both in character. I tried really hard to make sure they were. I have to say, having the canon reveal does make these sort of conversations more difficult, so there are a few familiar themes running through, but hopefully it's also original (as much as these things can be in a fandom where it's been done hundreds of times!).

Anyway, enough from me. Here's the last chapter. Please let me know what you think!

**Chapter 29**

There were still several paces distance between the two of them when Merlin stopped. Arthur saw him shuffling uncomfortably and felt his heart ache with the familiarity of it. He turned away, not knowing what to say or what to do. The compulsion to run, which had been so prevalent in him earlier, however, had disappeared; he felt no threat from Merlin, he was not worried about what the man might do. It seemed strange to him to be so close to someone with magic and be so convinced that they were not evil. Unless, of course, Merlin had fooled him in that regard as well.

'I need to talk to you,' Merlin said gently. Arthur felt a memory spark through him at the simple words. He wondered if this was some sort of game that Merlin was playing, trying to make him let his guard down, trying to make it seem like nothing had changed between them. He decided he would play along.

'I decide when we need to talk,' he replied, looking back at Merlin. The confusion on the man's face told Arthur that he had not intended to repeat the words he had said so many years ago, but understanding passed across his features. The smallest whisper of a smile touched his lips.

'Not today,' he whispered. Arthur turned back to look over the castle grounds, the breeze cooling his face.

'So I suppose, now,' he said, not looking at Merlin, 'you remember why you said you'd be my servant until the day you died.'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

Silence. Arthur sighed in irritation and turned around. Merlin had not moved from where he had been before.

'Come on, Merlin,' he growled, anger bubbling in the words. 'I don't think anything else you say can be any worse than what you've already admitted.'

'It isn't that,' he replied, matching Arthur's anger with an infuriating calmness.

'What then?'

'I need you to accept me as I am first of all; I don't want it to be an obligation.'

'Trust me, I feel no obligation whatsoever to accept you,' Arthur bit back. He saw the hurt pass across Merlin's face, felt his own guilt, despite his intentions to remain guilt free. 'You have magic, Merlin,' he said instead, his voice quiet, but fierce. 'How could you? You've seen how evil it is, you've seen-'

'Magic is not evil. I told you-'

'You told me yourself that magic was evil!' Arthur told him vehemently, throwing his arms up.

'What?'

'You've told me in the past that magic is evil, that those who use it are evil. And what's more,' he continued, pointing violently at Merlin, 'you've never tried to defend magic; you've never made any attempt to change my view of it. How can you claim that it can be used for good after spending years acting as if you believe the opposite?'

'I…,' Merlin frowned, but he seemed nervous, fearful. It infuriated Arthur.

'You what?' he prompted.

'I couldn't say what I really thought, could I; not without making you suspicious,' he began softly.

'Then why say anything at all?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Yes, Merlin, it does!' Arthur replied. 'It matters because I need to understand why you would-'

'Why I would what? Sacrifice the chance of having magic accepted? Sacrifice the opportunity to change your mind and be who I truly am?' Merlin asked, his voice loud and angry. The change took Arthur by surprise. He had expected to be the one getting angry in this conversation –if it could be called that- the revelation that Merlin seemed equally angry made doubt trickle through him. He suppressed it, however; he was the one who had been lied to.

'Yes, exactly,' he replied.

'The same reason I do everything I do,' he muttered. 'To protect you, even when you're an ungrateful, arrogant-'

'I'm the King; you can't speak to me like that.'

'Try me,' Merlin challenged. 'Because I've been with you through everything, through every loss and victory; I have been there for you at every turn! And now you won't even listen to what I have to say; you won't believe anything I'm saying.'

'You lied to me for six years, Merlin!' he raged. 'Six years of lies and now you want me to believe you?'

'Yes, I do!' Merlin told him. 'Because even if I haven't told you the truth, you know that I'm speaking it now! You know it! What else have I got to hide, Arthur? What other secret could I have that would be more damaging than this one? You know who I am now; and even with magic, I'm the same person I've always been. The person who you trust, who you know is loyal only to you.'

Arthur shook his head, clenching his fists at his sides. He pushed off from the parapets and found himself walking along them, away from Merlin and away from his words, but they followed him anyway, ringing around his head. He tried to shut them out, but they broke through his defences. Because no matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew that Merlin was right: Arthur believed what he was saying. And if that was the case then he couldn't just rage and scream and hurl insults –the things that he wanted to do- because if he believed what Merlin was saying, then he had to be willing to listen; to do anything else would be to deny his own instincts. It would be foolish and childish.

He stormed across the space for a while longer; an internal struggle between hearing Merlin out and walking away from him occupying all his thoughts. It would be so easy to just walk back into the castle and send Merlin away. Easy in one way; the hardest thing he would ever have to do in another.

He paused on the spot his body turning between the door and Merlin, but eventually he faced him and walked back over. Six years of friendship, demanded that a chance be given, but that was all it was, and Arthur was not willing to remain silent through the exchange.

'Why did you lie to me for all those years?' he asked, his anger evident. He had expected Merlin to be meek in his responses; after all, Arthur was graciously giving him the chance that he evidently desired, but the man seemed equally fierce and defensive.

'When should I have told you?' he asked, an edge in his voice.

'What?'

'When would have been the best time? I'm interested to know your thoughts,' Merlin pressed sarcastically, a challenge in both his voice and his eyes.

'I don't know, but in six years, I'm willing to bet there was a moment when you could have mentioned it.'

'Perhaps when we first met? But then again, maybe not. A public execution on my first day in Camelot wasn't really my idea of a welcome.'

'Don't treat this like it's a joke,' Arthur warned him.

'How could I? Nothing about this is funny, nothing about this is easy. But I need you to understand what it was like for me. I need you to think about someone other than yourself.' Had Arthur been able to speak through his outrage, he would have given Merlin several choice words, but the man continued before he could. 'When should I have told you? When your father was King? Would you have wanted me to put you in that position?'

'I would've wanted the truth!'

'No you wouldn't,' Merlin told him with an emotionless laugh and a shake of his head.

'How would you know? You didn't give me the chance! This is about _you_ and your fear of what I would've done.'

'That's not the only reason,' Merlin retorted, but he was less sure of himself now.

'If it was the fear of putting me in a difficult position then why didn't you tell me when I became king? What was stopping you then?'

'I watched you despair over Morgana,' Merlin replied. 'You watched your sister, someone who was so kind and caring, turn into a witch bent on revenge. What would you have said if I told you that I had magic too? That someone else you trusted had magic?'

'I don't know, but it would have been a lot better than finding out the way I did today,' Arthur told him, turning away once more. Now, Merlin did come closer, marginally. But Arthur found that more questions and arguments were coming into his mind and he felt a fire burning through his chest. He wanted this to be done and over and sorted, and until all the tangled thoughts were out of his head, that wasn't possible. He whirled round, making Merlin pause cautiously.

'And another thing: why did you even come to Camelot? You have magic Merlin!' he shouted the words so loudly that they echoed. 'Magic! Why would you come here?'

Merlin looked round in wide-eyed panic at Arthur's shouted words. It took a second for Arthur to realise that he was fearful of someone over hearing. He didn't want anyone else to find out. New anger filled Arthur.

'There's nobody up here to find out, Merlin! Besides, the King of Camelot knows you have magic; what the hell does it matter who else finds out now?' He glared at Merlin. 'Why did you come here, Merlin? Answer the question.'

'Because I was too conspicuous in Ealdor. I needed to disappear. It wasn't part of my plan to become your manservant.'

'No-one made you stay,' Arthur retorted.

'I know that, but…'

'But what?'

'But then it became my destiny to be at your side.' Arthur shook his head, a laugh breaking through his anger, but there was no humour in it.

'You don't know anything about destiny,' Arthur told him.

'Really?' Merlin asked. Now he really _was_ angry.

'What could you possibly know?'

'More than you, that's for sure,' he replied through gritted teeth. 'You think because you're a king, you are the only one who understands responsibility, who understands having the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders.'

'And you know what that's like, do you?'

'Yes, I do,' Merlin told him forcefully. 'I've been fighting for Camelot and for you for years. Just because you don't see it, it doesn't mean it isn't there. This kingdom is one that we are both building, and I understand the weight of shaping her future.'

Arthur frowned at this, his anger momentarily forgotten. What was he talking about? What was he trying to say?

'This is _my_ kingdom, Merlin. _My_ responsibility. Being the King's manservant doesn't mean you have a share in that.'

'No, but being your protector and Camelot's protector does,' Merlin told him firmly.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Arthur asked him incredulously, but even as he said it, he saw something building up behind Merlin's eyes; as if he was about to start something for which he had been waiting years and years. As if another part of him was about to be revealed. Arthur felt both terrified and expectant.

'This _is_ your kingdom, Arthur, and I would never claim that it wasn't,' he began, more quietly now, 'but you have not been protecting it alone. And you have always been protected yourself.'

'What…?' but he was beginning to get the picture.

'How are either of us alive, Arthur?' Merlin asked him with shrug. 'How, after everything, are we still here? How do you think we survive? How do you think you recover from wounds and illnesses that should be fatal? How does Camelot live through powerful magical attacks?' His eyes were sad now, his stance one of defeat, though Arthur couldn't work out why. In truth, that wasn't what he was focussing on. Merlin's words were the only things that had his attention. He frowned again as he considered them, but then an undeniable truth began to filter into his mind; things became clearer as he thought back over the things that he and Camelot had somehow, against all odds, endured and survived.

Looking up at Merlin, who seemed so small and so unsure at that moment, Arthur could hardly believe the implications of the words, but then he remembered seeing Tiden consumed by power, remembered seeing how confidently Merlin had stood, his hands outstretched, his eyes glowing gold. He had felt the power himself.

Since he had discovered Merlin's secret, he had never once considered the possibility that Merlin's truly powerful use of magic had been a frequent occurrence in Camelot. He had assumed the magical use had been small, insignificant, unimportant. Because surely he would have felt it, surely he would have known, surely Merlin would have hinted at the fact that he deserved some credit. Arthur would have done.

'You…?' Arthur asked, still frowning, still attempting to solidify the understanding in his mind. 'Lady Helen?' he said instead.

'What?'

'Lady Helen,' Arthur pressed. 'You pulled me out of the way of her knife.'

'I know. I've been paying for it ever since.' Arthur didn't respond to the jibe, seeing it for what it really was: a deflection. Merlin sighed. 'So?' he asked.

'So…' Arthur shook his head, trying to picture that day. It had been such a long time ago; it had been so long since he'd even thought on it, and yet now he dragged the memory back up, searching out Merlin in the Great Hall on that distant day. 'You were…you were at the side of the room when she threw it…nowhere near me…' he looked up at Merlin for confirmation. He gave none, just stood waiting for Arthur. 'So how did you pull me away?'

'I'm really fast,' Merlin murmured, but he held Arthur's gaze. Arthur said nothing. Merlin sighed and looked at the floor. 'I slowed down time,' he said, looking back up.

'What?' Arthur felt his face drop at the words. 'You…' he shook his head. 'You did what?'

'I slowed down time. It was the only way I could reach you.'

Arthur stared at him dumbfounded for a while longer, before his mind started turning again. But when it did, he only found that it became clogged with more and more questions, more and more possibilities, more and more demonstrations of a power that Arthur would never have believed existed, especially not in Merlin.

'What else?' he asked.

'What do you mean?'

'What else have you done, Merlin?'

'Enough,' he nodded. 'Enough to keep you safe, to keep you alive.'

'I want to know.'

'I don't know if you do,' Merlin told him, sadly. The look on Merlin's face made Arthur pause for a moment, uncertain suddenly at the sadness in him, but curiosity got the better of him.

'Tell me,' he said firmly, but it only caused Merlin to sigh and step back slightly. Arthur could sense the man closing himself up, and found that he couldn't allow it. He had to know what else he owed to Merlin. Slowly, he closed the gap between them, removed the frown from his face and locked eyes with the one person he had trusted above all others. 'Please, Merlin. I'd like to know.'

Arthur knew from the moment he said it, that Merlin would answer his request, but he still took several seconds to nod. Arthur wondered why, but a thought came to him as he watched resolve flood into Merlin's face. Before him stood a man who had spent years hiding everything he was and everything he had done. And now Arthur was asking him to reveal all of that, to come out from the secrets and the hidden things of his past, leaving only himself behind.

Once he had explained to Arthur, once he had obeyed the request, Merlin would be more vulnerable than he had ever been in his life. Arthur felt his anger beginning to slip away.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded. 'I'll tell you the story you don't know.'

* * *

In the end, it wasn't the whole story that Merlin gave to Arthur. There were some things that he would only be able to tell the King as time went by, there were other things that really were his own secrets to keep, just as anyone else was entitled to their hidden places. But it was enough of the story to give Arthur a picture of what had happened in the shadows; of what events Merlin had been orchestrating behind the scenes; of how much he had been a part of ensuring Camelot's safety.

He told Arthur about things that he hadn't thought on for years. Valiant's shield, the troll step-mother, numerous fights and skirmishes, the cup of life, Arthur's quest, the sword in the stone, Lamia, Cornelius Sigan. It felt surreal to be speaking out the words, to be showing Arthur parts of his life that he had fought so hard to keep hidden from the man. A strange embarrassment came over him, and he downplayed much of what he was saying, feeling security in the humility that had been forced upon him for so many years. He had always said that he didn't want recognition, but he had never been entirely sure. Did a part of him want people to know what he was capable of; did he want people to understand his abilities? The more he spoke to Arthur, the more he realised that he didn't want those things after all. Yes, Arthur needed the truth at the moment, and yes, Merlin wanted to tell him, but the thought of his actions being made public frightened him. He wanted to be seen as himself, not just as a sorcerer. When it came down to it, he had done all those things for Arthur, not for any recognition or for any reward.

And so he continued talking, but with caution; simply stating what had happened and what he had done about it.

At first, Arthur asked questions frequently, a completely foreign interest in what Merlin had to say seeming to take over him, but as Merlin went on and related more of his exploits, the King drew into himself. Merlin watched the change with a terrible trepidation. Arthur had gone from amazed disbelief, to an odd neutrality, to a grieving acceptance. It was easy to see on his face: he was pale, his mouth was turned down and his eyes were heavy. But still Merlin talked. Stopping now, meant having to ask why Arthur was looking at him with such regret; he wanted to put that off for as long as possible, but as the night began to lighten into an early dawn, Merlin found that he had run out of things that he was willing to share. His throat hurt and his heart felt oddly heavy. More than that, he was utterly exhausted. He had been talking for a long time while Arthur had remained quiet, listening carefully, fearfully, sadly, but listening nonetheless: something that Merlin had never experienced before, not for that length of time.

'Is that everything?' Arthur asked him, when the silence had gone on for a minute or so.

'No,' Merlin told him; the thought of lying didn't even cross his mind; there was no point anymore. 'But, it's all I'm going to say for now. I hope you can understand that.'

Arthur nodded, but said nothing. He, too, looked drained. He was sitting with his back to the parapets. At some point in the night, they had both sat down; it was that or fall down. Merlin, who was sat only an arm's length away, had his knees tucked up to his chest, awaiting whatever would come next. He had said all he could; he had told Arthur the truth. He had nothing left to give.

They sat in silence for a long time, but the longer it went on, the more it felt like silence was the only possibility; it hardened into a shield that was more and more difficult to break. Merlin could see Arthur from the corner of his eye, could see the focus in his gaze, could see the way his expression had frozen in a frown. It was evident that he was processing all that Merlin had said, his concentration was absolute. Merlin, on the other hand, had nothing else to think on. The longer the silence went on, the more he found himself succumbing, instead, to a deep fear of what Arthur was going to say next. While telling his side of the story, he had found a confidence in the certainty of what he had done and been for all these years. Now, he felt only a terrible uncertainty for the future, as if the time they had spent talking –shouting- on the battlements had been an interlude, a step outside of their lives. What lay ahead was reality; one that couldn't possibly continue as it had before. A mixture of the dawn chill and his own nervousness caused Merlin to shiver. He wrapped his jacket more tightly around himself. The sound, though, roused Arthur from his meditation. He breathed deeply and then turned to Merlin.

'You should go in.'

'No, I'm fine,' Merlin told him.

'You look like you haven't slept for days.'

Merlin couldn't argue with him there. Even today he hadn't caught up on any sleep. He had helped Gaius and his mother treat the people who were sent up to them, and had kept Gaius supplied with everything he needed to treat people in the rest of the castle. He had kept Peter comfy and well-looked after, sending Gwaine away when the knight turned up to take Peter to the dungeons. In all fairness, the knight hadn't taken too much convincing and had said he would keep Peter's whereabouts to himself. And then in the afternoon, Merlin had gone into the forest to bury James. He closed his eyes at the memory.

'I haven't, really, but neither have you.' Arthur shrugged and fell silent once more, but Merlin was unwilling to wait any longer. He had had six years to worry over what Arthur would do when he finally found out; he couldn't do that any longer.

'Arthur,' he began, waiting until he had the King's attention to carry on. 'I know that this has changed everything, and that these last few days have been hard, but-'

'I want you to go to Cyathia.'

Merlin felt as if he was falling into a dream. His stomach curled in panic and his throat constricted.

'Arthur, I know this is difficult,' he stammered, panic twisting though him, 'and I know that it affects us, but you have to believe me: I only ever did-'

'Merlin.'

'-what I thought was for the best.'

'Merlin,' Arthur tried again, but Merlin just wanted to drown out whatever he was going to say.

'And surely you know I would never have gone along with Tiden at any point if I'd remembered the truth.'

'Merlin!' This time it was a shout, which made him jump. He fell silent as he looked at Arthur's infuriated face. 'I know that you would never have done it if you'd had your memories. The way I reacted before…I was angry and shocked, that's all.'

'Then why send me to Cyathia?' Merlin asked desperately, but before he could wallow too much in self-pity, he found determination flooding through him: he wouldn't let this be how things ended between himself and Arthur. He wouldn't let it all be for nothing. 'I'm not going,' he said firmly, shaking his head as Arthur frowned.

'What?'

'I'm not going. You know, technically, I'm not even a citizen of Camelot, so I'm not bound to do as you ask.'

'Merlin,' Arthur growled.

'I haven't spent all these years by your side just for you to turn against me now.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' Arthur asked, but Merlin found that the words were oddly distant. Instead, his mind was going over ways that he could remain in Camelot without Arthur's knowledge. He had plenty of options. A disguise would be easy enough, especially with magic, and the city was big enough to hide him, as long as he was careful about where he went.

'I'm not going to Cyathia, or anywhere else for that matter. You won't be able to banish me anyway.'

'Banish you?'

'I can hide in Camelot easily. I managed it for ages when your father was trying to arrest me that time.'

'Merlin! For once in your life, shut up and listen!' This time he did stop; he knew that tone well enough to know it was not one to be crossed. He looked at Arthur, but kept his expression fierce. He would not back down on this. 'I'm not banishing you to Cyathia,' he said incredulously. Merlin tilted his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind and then spoke anyway.

'You're not?'

'No.'

'But…you just said you want me to go to Cyathia.'

'I do, but not as a banishment,' he exclaimed, looking somewhat infuriated as he glared at Merlin.

'Then…why?'

'Merlin, Cyathia's King and dozens of their soldiers have just died in Camelot, I have nearly a hundred Cyathians locked up in my dungeons, and somehow I need to convince them and everyone else in that kingdom that I am not trying to wage war on them.'

'So I'm…?'

'So you're going as an envoy. One that comes back afterwards,' Arthur finished.

Merlin eyes went wide in understanding and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

'Oh,' he murmured. 'Well, that's fine then. I can do that.'

'Good,' Arthur told him, sighing emphatically.

'So you and I…?' Merlin ventured. At the words, Arthur sobered considerably and Merlin realised anew that all was not as he wanted it to be. He waited, sensing that Arthur was choosing his words carefully. After a moment, he turned from where he had been leaning against the wall, so that he was facing Merlin. Merlin mirrored his movements.

'I can not pretend that I am alright with everything.' He looked down and sighed, but he fixed his eyes on Merlin once more. 'I understand why you didn't tell me, but…' he laughed sadly, '…we were friends, Merlin. You know we were.' He shook his head. 'It will take time for me to accept that you said nothing…'

'Arthur…' Merlin tried.

'Just hear me out Merlin,' he said. The words were spoken so softly that Merlin felt compelled to obey, even if his heart was crying out at the way their friendship was being referred to as a thing of the past. 'I need time to understand who you are, properly this time. Time to rethink everything I thought I already knew about magic and Camelot's strength.' He paused for several moments and Merlin could see him battling with something. Whatever he said next was not something that he was saying easily or lightly. He looked up at Merlin, holding his gaze.

'I need time to work out how I can say sorry to you for never treating you as I should have.'

'Arthur there's no need-'

'Merlin.' Merlin snapped his mouth shut. 'And I need time to work out how I can ever thank you for what you've done.'

Had Merlin wanted to speak at that point, he wouldn't have been able to. The sincerity in Arthur's words, the emotion in them… It was more than he had ever hoped for. He felt tears come into his eyes, but they weren't tears of pride or even tears of joy –though that emotion was coursing through him. No, the tears were ones of utter relief. He felt the terrible coiling in his chest unwind and disappear, felt his lungs breathe more easily once again. He swallowed and nodded at Arthur, unable to do anything else and knowing that anything else would embarrass Arthur anyway. The King did seem to be struggling with the way he was baring his soul. He dropped his eyes from Merlin's and coughed to clear his throat.

'I also need time to figure out how the hell I can keep you as my manservant now I know what you can do,' he continued, his tone lighter. Merlin smiled; he knew what the display of emotion would have taken for Arthur and he knew that it wasn't something the man could sustain for very long.

'I wouldn't worry about that,' Merlin told him. 'I was destined to be your servant.'

'I really don't think you were, Merlin. For one thing, you're terrible at it –although in recent weeks I've seen an improvement.' Merlin couldn't contain a guilty smile; he couldn't believe how hard he'd worked as Arthur's servant over the last few days. '- and for another…' he shrugged and shook his head, '…your skills are too valuable and unique to be used only as a servant.'

'Then maybe my destiny isn't to be your servant,' Merlin said gently.

'No?'

'Maybe it's just to serve you,' he shrugged, 'in whatever way that may be.'

He looked over to see Arthur nod, a small smile on his face.

'Maybe,' he agreed. 'And I'm grateful…my friend.'

Merlin said nothing, but he breathed in deeply at the words, allowing them to flow over him like a cool breeze on a hot day. Both of them knew the weight of that one word.

'So, now are you going to tell me?' Arthur asked. Merlin frowned.

'Haven't I told you enough for one day?' he asked. He gave a sideways glance towards the King and saw him smiling.

'This is the last thing I'll ask.'

'Alright,' he sighed. 'Tell you what?'

'Why you told me you'd be my servant until the day you died?'

'Oh,' Merlin breathed. He saw Arthur turn to look at him, waiting with more patience than was usual. Merlin considered the question; he had meant what he said before, he didn't want Arthur to feel an obligation, as if he owed Merlin another chance, but perhaps that wasn't an issue anymore. Still, he wasn't entirely sure how Arthur would react. Maybe it was time to find out. 'It was just after you'd recovered from the bite that the questing beast gave you.'

'I know.'

'The _fatal_ bite of the questing beast,' Merlin said pointedly. He saw Arthur frown and then watched his eyes widen in understanding.

'Gaius never cured me,' he murmured.

'No. There was no cure, Arthur. You were going to die.'

'Then…'

'There was one way that I could save you…' he paused and put his head back for a moment, but then continued on. 'I travelled to the Isle of the Blessed and I…'

'Merlin?'

'Nimueh was there and I made a trade with her,' he whispered.

'Nimueh?' Arthur frowned. 'But she disappeared. She…' he trailed off and then turned to Merlin. 'What trade?' he asked gravely.

'My life for yours,' he said quickly, not daring to look at Arthur.

'Merlin!'

'You were going to die! I had to do something.'

'I don't want people to die for me,' Arthur told him firmly.

'I know, but people will, Arthur. They'll follow you and they'll die for you because you are worth the sacrifice.'

'Merlin-'

'It's true,' he insisted. Silence followed for a few moments, before Arthur spoke again.

'So on the night you spoke to me, you were…saying goodbye?'

'Yes. I hadn't thought I'd be alive to see you wake up. Nimueh tricked me. She traded my mother's life instead. My mother turned up in Camelot dying, and I knew that she'd been used as the sacrifice. So the night I came to see you I was preparing to travel back to the Isle of the Blessed and make another trade.'

'Your life for your mother's?'

'Yes.'

'Then, when you came to see me…'

'I wasn't expecting to see you again.'

A breeze ripped across the top of the battlement at that moment, silencing their conversation. It was several seconds later before either spoke.

'So what happened?' Arthur pressed. 'I'm alive, you're alive, your mother's alive.'

'When I went to go the next morning, Gaius had gone in my place.'

'Gaius?'

'Oh,' Merlin said, wide-eyed. 'Erm…he knows…about me, I mean.'

'I guessed,' Arthur said drily.

'Oh, that's alright then. I think.'

'What happened, Merlin?' Arthur sighed.

'I followed him back there. He was already dead when I arrived, but Nimueh was there again. She tried to make me join her. I refused. And then I killed, swapping her life for Gaius'. In the end, she was the life that was traded for yours.'

'Wait, you…' Merlin turned at the confusion in Arthur's voice. 'You killed Nimueh?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'_You_?'

'Yes,' Merlin frowned. How much clearer did he have to make it?

'She was a strong sorceress, Merlin.'

'I know, but…' he tailed off. He didn't want to draw attention to his abilities anymore. He had told Arthur what he wanted to know; that was all that mattered.

'…you're stronger,' Arthur finished for him. Merlin nodded slowly. 'I…' he continued after a few moments, as if searching for the words he wanted to say. In the end he sighed and looked at Merlin. 'Thank you,' he said simply, as if he didn't know what else he could do or say. Merlin just shrugged and smiled and then they both returned to their silence.

More time passed, but eventually, something seemed to stir them both. Slowly, stretching his limbs as he did, Arthur stood up. Merlin followed suit, groaning at the stiffness in his legs and the way his joints cracked. How long had they been sitting there? His question was answered as he turned to look over the battlements. The sun was beginning to rise. Arthur was already looking out over the land, his face bright in the first rays of light.

'Do you remember the morning after my father died? You'd sat outside that room all night.' Merlin felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

'I remember.'

'Do you remember what I said to you?' he asked, turning. Merlin smiled and looked at his friend, nodding slowly.

'You said it's a new day.'

The King looked back over the battlements and Merlin stepped up beside him, their eyes fixed on the rising sun.

'I think this is another one.'

* * *

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	30. Epilogue

**Beyond Recall**

* * *

A/N: Can't believe that this is my last Beyond Recall post, although it is a bit of an epic one. This is the longest instalment by about a thousand words, but there was a lot to cover.

I'm not as happy with the epilogue as I was with the last chapter, but hopefully it will tie things off nicely. Also, I haven't edited this one as much as the others, so I'm hoping that the typos aren't too prevalent. Please forgive me if they are.

Just to say a **huge** thank you to everyone who has read and favourited and reviewed this story. I really appreciate so many of you taking the time to leave feedback –and a lot of feedback at that; it must have taken ages to write some of those reviews! Thank you so much.

At the moment, I don't have any plans for another story; nothing has sprung to mind recently, and I'm moving to Africa in August, so it might be a tad hectic for me over the next few months! You never know, though: inspiration might strike!

Anyway, enough from me. On with the epilogue and please, for the last time, let me know what you think!

Laura

x x x

* * *

**Epilogue**

'Sire!' Arthur turned at the sound of a servant running over to him on the training grounds. He nodded at the knights to continue their drills, signalling to Elyan to take over the session.

'Is there a problem?'

'Queen Guinevere wishes to speak to you.'

'Thank you.' Arthur put his sword back in its sheath and jogged past the servant. He navigated the castle corridors with ease. The busyness of the peace talks seemed like a distant dream now –or perhaps a nightmare- and while he still lived with the deep regret of the failed alliance, he was glad to have his castle back.

Even walking around the castle, however, he was met with reminders of the events that had very nearly led to war. Certain walls and tapestries had clear marks from the clash of swords, while in other areas wreaths of flowers had been laid out for Camelot soldiers who had lost their lives. The courtyard was still covered with flowers, candles and trinkets that the townsfolk and the visitors from the other kingdoms had brought up in the days following the attacks. Arthur had expected the offerings to stop once the other kingdoms had left, but Camelot's citizens had continued in the silent tributes.

The other kingdoms were still very much in Arthur's thoughts and mind. For the first couple of weeks he had remained tense and uncertain, sure at any moment that the fragile truce that they had put together would fail, but it gradually became clear that no-one was willing to risk war.

Arthur had done what he could to try and help build relationships between the kingdoms. He had given supplies to all the visitors for their return journey and he was in frequent correspondence with each of the monarchs, offering aid and future supplies where they were needed. Some seemed to be making the effort to preserve the peace along with him; others were proving to be more difficult.

He quickly closed the distance between the training grounds and his chambers and was met by Guinevere's smiling face.

'What is it?' he asked, matching her enthusiasm though clueless as to what was causing it. She held out a piece of parchment, shaking it at him.

'It's from Chalere; the servants just brought it up for us.' Arthur knew what the parchment said before she told him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

'He's accepted the aid we sent?'

'Yes, and he wishes to work for peace as well.'

Arthur said nothing, just shook his head and then embraced Guinevere. Chalere had been their biggest problem in ensuring that the truce held. If he had been difficult in the talks, then he was even more difficult when war was a possibility. It had been he who had caused Arthur the most concern.

'Then war has been averted?' Guinevere asked.

'Yes, I believe so,' Arthur told her, smiling. 'Assuming Merlin is successful that is,' he added more soberly.

'Merlin will do it,' she told him.

'How can you be sure?'

'Because you asked him to,' she said simply.

Arthur didn't argue. There were not many things that he had come to terms with in the last month, but Merlin was one of the few that he had. And it hadn't been easy. He had put on something of a façade in the few days before Merlin had left as an envoy. It wasn't that everything he had said on the battlements had been a lie; on the contrary; Arthur wasn't sure that he had ever been as honest as he had been that night, but it was not as simple as just starting again. There were so many lies that he had to come to terms with and understand and forgive; so many prejudices that he had to fight and rethink and realign. It had taken many hours of ranting out his difficulties to an ever patient Guinevere; and several nights of wondering round the castle telling himself over and over again that Merlin had only ever done what he felt was right; had only ever protected Arthur and Camelot. And soon the mantras that he had adopted became his truths allowing him to move forward.

There had been many things to consider, especially concerning what Merlin's role would be now. As much as he wanted things to go back to what they had been before with Merlin as his manservant, he couldn't see that future anymore. Merlin was not a servant and to keep him in that position –one that he would probably insist that he wanted to have- was not fair to him; it didn't allow him to use the skills and gifts he had been given, and that was something Arthur wanted to happen. The more he had considered that, the more he understood why Merlin had slipped so easily into Cyathia's way of life; why he had been so willing to fight for it: he had felt that he could be himself, without judgement or fear. One day, Arthur hoped that he would feel the same in Camelot.

That day, of course, would be a long time coming. Arthur had not even begun to consider the ramifications this would have on the future of Camelot when it came to magic. At the moment, he wanted to adjust to the idea himself; anything else would be something for a later time. And when it came down to it, he needed Merlin's help if he was ever to consider the topic of magic in Camelot.

For now, he wanted to ensure that the relationship he had with Merlin was re-established. Anything else could wait until later.

* * *

Merlin breathed in deeply as he reached the gate leading into the lower town of Camelot. It had been an entire month since he had left as an envoy and he felt intense relief at being back home.

'Are you going to stand and stare or are you actually going to walk in?' Merlin turned to the speaker with a wry smile.

'I'm savouring the moment.'

'Well savour more quickly. I've got to see if somebody will give me a job. Do you happen to know if Arthur needs another stable hand? I'm really no good at anything else,' Peter told him.

'I don't know,' Gwaine shrugged from behind him. 'Court jester maybe.'

Peter turned and gave the man a glare. The two of them seemed to take great delight in winding each other up, and Merlin had realised over the past few weeks that it was due to the fact they were so similar. Both of them were getting a taste of their own medicine.

'We best get moving,' Leon said, taking several steps forward. 'Arthur is not expecting us. I think, however,' the man answered with a knowing smile, 'that he will pleased at the early return.'

'I really hope so,' Merlin nodded. It wasn't that he thought Arthur would have changed his mind about anything in the past month, but even so, he wasn't sure exactly what the King's reaction would be.

The four of them moved forward, Merlin feeling perfectly at ease in the group. That had not been the case at first. He remembered all too well their journey to Cyathia with the kingdom's survivors. It had been spent in uncomfortable silence with Leon keeping his thoughts to himself, only because –Merlin guessed- the knight had been under strict instructions from Arthur to keep an open mind –the irony! Leon's silence, coupled with Peter's firm defence of Merlin if any comment was made, and Gwaine's constant frowns of disbelief that he had directed at Merlin made for a very long trek.

He and Arthur had talked at length about who should know about Merlin's magic and it had been decided that the inner circle of knights and Guinevere should be told. Merlin hadn't been entirely comfortable with the idea, but Arthur had argued that they needed to know so that they could help with any magical attacks on Camelot, if nothing else. The two of them had told Guinevere together and she, though very taken aback at the news, had not reacted anywhere near as angrily as Arthur had.

The reactions of the knights had been varied. The first thing Gwaine had done was laugh and accuse them of messing around. When they had assured him that it was genuine, and Merlin had given a small demonstration, the knight had laughed again, much to Arthur's chagrin. Elyan and Percival had remained cautiously quiet and had said very little to him, and Leon had, to Merlin's surprise, been the most hostile. It was nowhere near the level of hostility that Arthur had demonstrated, but it went beyond the caution of the other two knights. In the end, Merlin had guessed that it was due to the years that the man had spent fighting against magic. He had been a knight for many years, both under Uther and now Arthur. He didn't have the more common roots of the other knights and he had been fighting against evil sorcerers long before the others had arrived in Camelot.

And yet, when Arthur had decided who was going to go to Cyathia as part of the royal envoy, it was Leon who he chose, along with Gwaine. Merlin knew he'd done it on purpose. If Leon was going to grow accustomed to having a sorcerer in the court, the best thing to do was force him to spend even more time with Merlin. He suspected that Gwaine was there just to balance out Leon's reservations, and he certainly did that. The knight was constantly asking Merlin to show him things with magic, until Merlin felt like he was there solely for the man's entertainment. Leon had not been impressed with the impromptu magic shows.

It had taken most of the journey, but in the end, that knight had come round. Merlin had asked him what had changed his mind one evening in Cyathia.

'Well,' the knight sighed, 'it's hard to believe you're an evil sorcerer when everything you do is just like…well, Merlin.' He smiled. 'Besides, the more I think about it, the more I realise that if you've got magic, then Arthur's better protected than anyone in the kingdom.'

'That was always the plan,' Merlin nodded.

'Well, he's still alive, and I'm sure it's because of you.'

Things had been easier between them after that, which was a blessing considering the difficulties that they were then to face in Cyathia. It had been an arduous and delicate task, one which the three of them had handled to the best of their abilities. It hadn't stopped Merlin from being thrown in prison –a magic-proof one at that- when he had explained his part in Tiden's death, and it hadn't stopped uproar in the court as issues of succession –to which there was no heir- and war with Camelot and retribution were discussed. But their peaceful and open approach –one which Arthur had instructed them carefully on- seemed to pay off in the end. The survivors from the trip to Camelot backed up the story that Merlin told, and the testimony of Steven and his men –retrieved through a complicated magical enchantment that even Merlin couldn't understand- offered even more proof. The five of them were arrested and held in prison. The sentence had not been decided by the time Merlin left.

Meanwhile, the servants and soldiers who had been involved in disrupting the peace talks were also held, while a makeshift government was established to try and ascertain whether they could be accused of treason against Cyathia when they were acting on the misguided orders of their king. More than once, Merlin had wondered what James would have said at these meetings; he had no doubt that the man would have offered strong, wise solutions. Many people asked about James, and Merlin had reluctantly told them, his story being corroborated again by Steven's magically retrieved testimony. Merlin has asked if there were any family members that he needed to contact, but, as he had suspected, James had no known family. It made him sad to think that such a brave man would not be remembered through the eyes of loved ones.

Merlin was released from prison after the first week –partly due to Peter and Gwaine's persistent demands, and partly due to the fact that Leon threatened to contact Arthur over the treatment of his servant- and after that things seemed to improve. Cyathia took some tentative first steps to re-establishing a hierarchy, or at least a temporary one, while Merlin, Gwaine and Leon attempted to begin a diplomatic relationship. It wasn't so much that Arthur wanted to form an alliance with Cyathia, he wasn't ready for that and neither was Camelot, but he did want to be on good terms with the kingdom if that was at all possible. Anything to do with magic would come later, probably much later.

By the time they left, the new Cyathian government were willing to accept Camelot's claims of innocence in the attack and their sincerity in wanting to keep peace between the two kingdoms. That was enough for Merlin.

Peter had appeared the morning of their departure with his bags fully packed and leading his own horse which was loaded down with belongings.

'What are you doing?' Merlin had asked with an incredulous smile, but inwardly he had been overjoyed at the thought of Peter coming to Camelot.

'I'm coming with you.'

'What about your parents?'

'As far as they're concerned I'm helping to bring magic to Camelot. They're very proud. Having a non-magical son in a magical kingdom is a bit of a let down.'

'They don't think that,' Merlin had told him.

'No, but they're glad I'm sticking with you.'

'Sticking with me?'

'Of course; I don't know anyone else. I was thinking,' he carried on before Merlin could speak, 'I could be your apprentice.'

'You just said you didn't have magic!' Gwaine told him. He and Leon had been watching the exchange with amusement. 'And I'm not sure a school for sorcery would be Arthur's idea of a good development.'

'Not that kind of apprentice!' Peter said with a roll of his eyes. 'I mean, like an assistant.'

'I'm a manservant,' Merlin pointed out. 'Servants don't have assistants.'

'You won't stay a manservant though.'

'Says who?'

'Well, if things are changing in Camelot, isn't Arthur going to want you at the forefront?'

'I…'

'Let's not worry about this now,' Leon interrupted. 'We have a long journey back.'

'So I can come?' Peter asked, nearly ecstatic in his enthusiasm.

'Only if you can shut up for the duration of the journey,' Gwaine told him.

'I will if you do,' he shot back.

Merlin smiled as he remembered the back and forth sniping between the two of them throughout their travels back to Camelot. He was fairly sure that their irritation would soon blossom into camaraderie; Merlin wasn't entirely sure he was looking forward to the two of them being on the same side. However, it did remind him of two others who had been at each other's throats at the start of their relationship –actually, that hadn't really changed in all the time he had known Arthur.

He took another deep breath and stepped forward into the town. He needed to speak to Arthur.

* * *

With more gentleness than was usual, Merlin knocked on the door to Arthur and Gwen's chambers. He had briefly considered just walking in, but wasn't sure that reminding Arthur about the ease of their previous relationship was the best way forward. It was, however, Gwen's voice that called him in. He pushed the door open and walked in.

The joy on her face as she saw him was enough to make him grin and then laugh at her enthusiasm.

'Merlin!' she called, before running over and flinging her arms around him. 'It's so good to see you.'

'You too, if that's the welcome I get. I'm not sure anyone else will be that pleased to see me.' Gwen pulled back and gave him a scolding look that was full of affection.

'You know that's not true.'

Merlin just grinned at her again, overjoyed at her welcome and so pleased that he could remember just how wonderful she was. He still didn't really understand how Arthur had managed to marry her. Looking back over the weeks of his memory loss, he wished that he had had some memory returns of Gwen. Surely if he had remembered even the smallest amount of her kindness, he would have gone against Tiden sooner. He sighed and shook his head; there was no point reliving everything over and over again; he would drive himself mad.

She asked him a few questions about Cyathia and how everything had gone, which he answered briefly, but the longer he stood in Arthur's chambers, the more nervous he became at the thought of speaking to Arthur and discovering exactly what their relationship now was. His concern must have shown on his face.

'Are you alright?' Gwen asked, one hand on his arm.

'Just…' he smiled and shook his head. '…being back…'

'It _will_ be fine,' she assured him. He said nothing, just gave her an unconvinced nod. 'It will!'

'You tell the future now?' he teased.

'No, but I know Arthur.'

'We'll see.'

'If you don't believe me, go and talk to him.' The look on her face made Merlin frown in suspicion. She was still smiling at him widely, he enthusiasm infectious.

'Do you know something I don't?' he pressed.

'Merlin, just go and talk to him. It won't be as bad as you think. He's missed you.'

'He said that?'

'It doesn't matter whether he did or didn't; I can tell,' she said forcefully when Merlin opened his mouth to argue. 'Just go and talk to him.'

'Alright.' He stared at her, his eyes narrowed for several seconds. 'Do you know where he is?'

'The north tower I'd imagine, top floor.'

'The north tower?' Merlin asked in surprise.

'Yes.'

'Why's he there?' For as long as Merlin had been in Camelot, the north tower had been all but deserted. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with it, but it hadn't been needed in the last few generations and, as such, had become somewhat run down. Even during the talks, only the lower levels had been used.

'Why don't you go and find out,' Gwen told him, nodding towards the door. Merlin laughed at her, intrigued as to what was going on, but it was clear that she wasn't going to say anything else.

'Very well, I'll go and investigate.'

'Good.'

After one more suspicious glance at her, he turned towards the door.

'Merlin.' He turned back at Gwen's gentle call. 'I'm really glad you're back.'

'Me too.'

He made his way to the north tower; a feeling of trepidation growing with every step. The last time that he and Arthur had spoken they had been on good terms. There was still the uncertainty and caution that had marked their exchanges since their conversation on the battlements, but that had been over a month ago. He truly didn't know how Arthur would react to him now/

Before he knew it, though, he had reached the stairs that led to the top floor of the north tower –the very dark stairs that led to the top floor of the north tower. Merlin squinted through the gloom, considered using magic to light the passageway and then changed his mind, deciding instead to flail his arms wildly.

'Arthur?' he called, choking slightly on the dust. He searched the walls for a torch, but all of the sconces were empty. He was saved from falling to his death in the darkness by a small amount of light creeping in from a window at the top of the spiralling staircase. A few more turns and he was standing by the window which provided a truly breathtaking view over Camelot, and to the left of the window was a heavy oak door that looked to as old as the castle itself. Hesitantly he pushed it open.

The room that he was presented with sent a strange sense of familiarity and comfort running through him. He frowned at the sensation, unsure of what had triggered it. He had never been in the room before, he was sure of that. It was quite large, easily as big as Gaius' main chamber, if not quite so packed full of things. That wasn't to say that it was empty. It was fully furnished with a table and chairs, a large writing desk and bookcases that were full of various large volumes -none of them looking like particularly exciting reads. On the floor, there were some thick rugs, which looked to be of a good quality. Three large windows letting in light and a lit fireplace on the right wall made the room warm and comfortable. A decorative fireguard stood in front of it, with a few cooking utensils stacked beside it. Across the other side of the room was a bed with a chest at the bottom of it - a very familiar chest at the bottom of it.

'That's mine,' he exclaimed.

Arthur, who had not heard him come in and was currently putting several large scrolls into said chest, jumped violently at Merlin's shout and turned with a furious look in his eye.

'Merlin!'

Now he realised why the room felt so familiar: it was full of his things. Not that he had many things, but even so, he now recognised some of the souvenirs that he had picked up on various outings, the blankets that his mother had sent over the years were spread across the bed and several of the medicinal books that Gaius had given to him were on the bookshelves.

'Sorry,' he murmured, still searching out items in the room. 'But…what's going on?'

'When did you get back?' Arthur asked, ignoring the question completely.

'Erm…' He turned full circle as he looked around the room.

'Merlin?' Arthur's insistent tone brought Merlin's attention back.

'Not long ago. I went to your chambers and then Gwen sent me up here.'

'You haven't spoken to Gaius?'

'No, why?' Arthur shook his head.

'It doesn't…You're not supposed to be back yet.' Merlin hid a sigh at Arthur's accusing tone.

'Well, we finished early and decided to come back.'

'You've done everything?'

'What can I say, I'm efficient,' he replied with a shrug. Quickly, Arthur replaced the lid of the chest that he had been standing next to, seeming to have gotten over his embarrassment at Merlin scaring him. Merlin took a deep breath; perhaps now their conversation would be somewhat more productive and probably much more difficult.

'How did everything go in Cyathia?' he asked.

'I think it will be alright,' Merlin nodded.

'Really?'

'Yes. We did everything you said. I don't think Cyathia will be a problem. Arthur nodded, a smile creeping across his face. 'And I think I make a good envoy,' Merlin added, encouraging Arthur into some sort of disdainful comment, but the man merely nodded with a half laugh.

'You can usually talk people round.'

'Leon and Gwaine can help me give you all the details latter, if you want.'

'That would be good.'

Silence reigned in the room for several seconds.

'Arthur, what is this place? And why are my things here?'

Arthur looked distinctly uncomfortable at the questions and took to looking around the room.

'Gaius was meant to tell you.'

'Tell me what?'

'About this room.'

'What about it?' Merlin asked, in frustration, although the more he looked around the room, the more he began to get an idea of what Arthur was trying and failing to say. 'Are you imprisoning me in a tower?' Merlin asked nonchalantly. Arthur glared at him.

'I've already told you Merlin: no banishment, no imprisonment, no execution.'

'You didn't tell me the last two,' he argued.

'Surely they were implied!' Merlin couldn't repress a grin at how riled Arthur seemed to be at the comments. The familiarity of it flowed through him, calming his worries and fears. In the days before he had left as an envoy, the banter between them had been almost non-existent; there had been too many raw emotions for that sort of levity, but now, it seemed, time had allowed for some of that lightheartedness to creep back in.

'No, but that's good to know,' Merlin told him. 'So this room is…?'

Arthur sighed heavily.

'Fine,' he muttered. 'While you've been away, I've been thinking about…well, about what you're going to do now. And don't,' he began loudly as Merlin opened his mouth to protest, 'tell me that you'll still be my manservant. You can't do that anymore, Merlin. It's just…it's a waste. Any idiot can clean up after me –you did it for long enough- but now there's a job that only you can do.'

'Arthur,' Merlin began. 'I like being your servant…most of the time. That's what I'm meant to do.'

'No it's not,' Arthur told him. 'We talked about this. You said yourself that you're meant to serve me, and it's an honour for me to have that loyalty from you, but not as a servant. There's too much potential in you for that.'

'So what's this then?' Merlin asked. 'A nice room to keep me as far away from everyone else in the castle as is possible?'

'Don't be so dramatic. Being a long way from anybody will work to your advantage, trust me.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Look.' He had walked to the other side of the room until he was in front of one of the windows, beckoning Merlin to come over. Hiding his scepticism, he did so. Quickly Arthur knelt down, pressing his fingers into the cracks between two of the stone slabs on the floor.

'Arthur, it's great that you're taking such an interest in how clean the floor is, but-'

'Shut up, Merlin,' he muttered, 'at some point you'll have to do this on your own and I'd like to see you try and lift this.'

'Really?' Before he could consider what he was doing and change his mind, Merlin raised his hand and whispered a few words. Instantly the stone slab lifted away from the floor, making Arthur jump for the second time in as many minutes. He looked around frantically for a few moments, then up at Merlin, his expression changing to one of reluctant understanding. 'Sorry,' Merlin muttered.

'You didn't do anything wrong,' Arthur told him, standing up again. Merlin felt a swell of gratitude go through him.

'So, this is a very nice hole in the floor of what I'm guessing is my new chamber, but I think it might be a bit dangerous.'

'It's not a hole, Merlin; it's a door.'

'A door? A door to what?'

At this Arthur did smile.

'To what I can only describe as a highly illegal room. I've broken all my own laws to put it there.'

Merlin frowned at him, tilting his head to the side, but Arthur said nothing, just indicated that Merlin should follow him as he lowered himself into the hole. Feeling somewhat bewildered, Merlin did so. He briefly wondered if Arthur had arranged a secret murder, but decided that if he had wanted to kill Merlin, he'd have done it years ago, and probably much more publically.

Sitting on the edge of the dark space, Merlin dangled his feet into the gloom and felt metal rungs running down the wall. He slowly climbed down the ancient looking ladder for several metres and then found his feet hitting the floor. The new area, however, was pitch black. He raised his hands in front of him and promptly smacked Arthur in the back.

'Merlin,' he growled.

'Well, I can't see anything.'

'There's a torch down here somewhere…' Arthur mused, his voice seeming to jump around as he attempted to navigate the pitch black room. With a sigh, Merlin raised a hand and brought a dozen glowing blue orbs into existence, sending them up to rest on the high ceiling. He looked at Arthur; he was watching the lights with a somewhat strained expression on his face, but, with effort, he nodded at Merlin.

'That's better.'

'Arthur, if it's a problem-'

'It isn't,' he insisted firmly. 'It will just take time.'

Merlin nodded his understanding, but was quickly distracted as he glanced around the hidden room that he found himself in. He couldn't stop a gasp from escaping his throat as he looked around and as he suddenly became aware of the atmosphere in the small space.

Magic.

He took a few steps forwards until he was in the centre of the space, and then turned full circle. Around the room were several bookshelves and every single one of them was filled to bursting with what he instantly knew were magic books. He could sense the power in them, the potential and the history. On the other side of the room was a huge cabinet with cross-hatch windows. But through them, Merlin could see any number of magical artefacts, crystals –he repressed a shudder- and amulets. Against the back wall, there was a massive desk on top of which was his magic book, while his staff was leaning carefully against the wall by the fireplace. And, finally, close to the ladder that he and Arthur had just descended was an apothecary table, loaded up with more jars, pots and vials than Merlin could count.

He turned back to Arthur, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, to be met by the unsure, but determined face of his king.

'Arthur, what…?' He turned again, taking in the room once more. 'Where did you get all of these things?'

'My father had a lot of them locked away during the purge. A few were in certain restricted sections of the archives,' he explained quickly.

'So this place is…' he shook his head, searching for the right word.

'A study, or a workshop,' Arthur offered. 'Everything to do with Camelot's history and politics that you might need are upstairs, but down here, you can work on anything…magical, without worrying about anyone finding out.' Merlin had never heard such nervousness or uncertainty in his friend before. He was struggling, that much was evident, but it was also clear that he was determined to do this, determined to give Merlin this opportunity and experience. 'No-one knows about the false floor, except those that already know about your magic. You'll be safe to work here until things change in Camelot. I don't know when that will be, but one day you won't have to hide.'

'You did this?' Merlin breathed. 'You brought everything up here, organised everything?'

'Guinevere and Gaius helped, as well as Percival and Elyan.'

'But this was your doing?'

'Well I am the King,' Arthur pointed out, a wry smile coming onto his face. 'I'd be worried if it wasn't.'

'Arthur, I…' he laughed and shook his head at his friend, '…I don't know what to say…'

'That makes a change.'

'…I can't believe you did this.'

Arthur began shuffling uncomfortably under Merlin's continual gaze.

'Well, you could hardly conduct magical experiments in the Court Physician's chambers could you,' he answered hastily, moving to the other side of the room as if he was suddenly interested by the books that were on the shelf. Merlin took another look around the room, breathing it all in, feeling at once like this was meant to be his room, his place from which to find ways and means to defend and fight for Camelot.

'Arthur,' he called. The King turned expectantly. 'Thank you.' Arthur simply nodded.

A few minutes later, the two of them climbed back up the ladder and found themselves in what Merlin now viewed as his new room. He looked around once again, reading the titles of the heavy volumes on the bookshelves. He realised what Arthur had been saying about Camelot's political history and frowned.

'So, what exactly is my job now?'

'That hasn't been completely decided,' Arthur told him. 'Obviously, magical issues are now your domain.'

'My domain?'

'Not that I'm giving you free reign,' he added pointedly. 'I want you to keep me informed of any magical issues in Camelot: threats, solutions, any ways in which magic could be used to help.'

'So, I'm sort of your advisor,' Merlin replied, keeping his face neutral and fighting the smirk that was trying to creep into his features. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

'You are not my advisor.'

'Why not? I'll be giving you advice on how to handle magical issues. And, to be honest, I've always given you advice.'

'Not advice that I listened to.'

'And how did that turn out most of the time?' Merlin asked him with feigned intrigue. Arthur sighed heavily and shook his head.

'Fine,' he muttered. 'It's an advisory position.'

Merlin allowed himself a grin, which Arthur promptly ignored before heading to the door.

'Come on,' he said. 'We need to go and see Gaius; he knows a lot more about everything that's down there.' Merlin repressed a laugh at the wary look that Arthur directed at the floor; he didn't want to embarrass him, not when he was making such a monumental effort. They headed out of the door, Arthur quickly locking it before handing Merlin the key.

* * *

The walk down towards Gaius' chambers was quiet, but comfortable in a way that Arthur hadn't dared to hope for this early on. He had expected things to be difficult; that the month gap since their last meeting would have created a void; that his evident reluctance when it came to magic –a reluctance that he was fighting to be rid of- would put a wall between himself and Merlin, but that wasn't the case. Walking through the castle with Merlin at his side felt right, even if their relationship would now have to exist in a different way. It seemed that Merlin's thoughts had taken a similar route because a few seconds later he spoke up.

'If I'm not your manservant anymore, does that mean I won't be going on missions and quests with you?' The man's tone was light, but Arthur could sense the hope. He had been faced with similar questions in the last few weeks, but the thought of going on missions without Merlin had sent a wave of sadness cascading through him.

'Of course you'll be going with me. Only now you can take credit for defeating the thieves and bandits and monsters that we come across.'

'Oh.'

'And now I know you can protect yourself, I won't even have to feel guilty about taking you.'

'You felt guilty?'

'On occasion,' Arthur shrugged. There hadn't been many times when he'd felt guilty; Merlin was so infrequently hurt on their trips that he had got used to not worrying; now, of course, he knew why his manservant had always remained so unscathed. 'But then you always did come back,' he added with a wry smile in Merlin's direction.

'So I'll be there as protector, advisor and envoy?'

'And cook.'

'You just said I wasn't your servant.'

'And you just said that you still wanted to be my servant. This way you get the best of both words,' Arthur told him, trying and failing to hide the amusement that was crossing his face.

'That's very kind of you, Sire. Your generosity knows no bounds.' The sarcasm in the words made Arthur smile, but he covered it quickly and sighed indignantly.

'I gave you a…' he lowered his voice, '…I gave you a room full of magic books. What more do you want?'

'Can I have a new set of clothes for my advisory role?'

He looked down at Merlin's threadbare clothes, wondering how the man had stayed in them for so long.

'I'll see what I can do,' he nodded after a moment's pause.

'Really?

'If I'm sending you off as an envoy, you'll need to look respectable.'

Merlin shook his head, smiling to himself and Arthur found himself mimicking the gestures.

'Have you got a new servant yet, then?' Merlin asked after a few moments. Arthur sighed. That was one thing that he hadn't really wanted to deal with. In part, it was because he didn't want Merlin to come back and feel like he had been replaced, but mainly it was due to the fact that he didn't particularly want to go back to having a quiet, frightened servant whose loyalty went only so far. It was one of the worst things that he had had to face when deciding on the new role that he was giving his friend: the fact that he and Merlin would never again have the master-servant relationship that he had taken such strength from before. Although he hated to admit it, he knew that he would miss Merlin a lot. He had reluctantly, and with much prompting, voiced the concern to Guinevere one night, only for her to point out that Arthur needed no excuse to spend time with a friend.

'No,' Arthur sighed.

'What about George?'

'I'm not hiring George. And I'm not keeping the one that I had when I thought you were dead.'

'What's wrong with him?'

'He doesn't say anything.'

'I would have thought that'd be your idea of the perfect servant.'

'It seems, Merlin, that having you as a servant all those years has ruined my ability to tolerate highly competent employees.'

'I think I've just developed your criteria. So you haven't got any candidates?' The way that he said it made Arthur frown in suspicion.

'Why? Do you have someone in mind?'

'Actually, I do,' Merlin nodded. Arthur stopped walking, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Merlin.

'Who?'

'A friend of mine.'

'That doesn't fill me with confidence.'

'He's new in Camelot, he's worked as part of a royal household before and I trust him with my life.'

'He's worked as a servant?'

'Not exactly. But,' he continued hastily, 'neither had I and that didn't turn out too badly.'

Arthur inhaled deeply, considering Merlin's words. He knew that the man wouldn't have made a suggestion unless he was relatively certain it was a good one.

'And you think he'd work well; that I could put up with him?'

'Of course, you're the image of a patient and understanding employer.'

Arthur fixed him with a glare and then continued walking.

'I suppose he can't be any worse than you,' Arthur mused. Merlin said nothing, just fell into step beside him. 'What's his name?'

'Peter,' Merlin replied.

'The Cyathian stable hand you hid from me?' Arthur asked him incredulously.

'I didn't hide him from you; I just didn't let you put him in the dungeons. He was injured trying to help you, remember,' Merlin pointed out. Arthur conceded the point. 'Besides I think the two of you will get along really well.'

'He's a stable hand, not a servant, Merlin.'

'He's a fast learner.'

'Would he even want the job?'

'Erm…' Merlin frowned, looking less than certain of the answer. 'Well, I can always ask. I might as well, you need a servant, Arthur, and what better way of building a relationship with Cyathia than by employing one of their citizens?'

Arthur didn't respond for a moment. Several sentimental ideas formed in his head: the fact that any other servant would never match up to the sort of servant Merlin had been; the idea that a new employee had a tough act to follow. He kept them to himself, but eventually nodded; Merlin's logic was sound.

'Alright, Merlin; I've trusted you this far. And if you are an advisor now,' he added with a roll of his eyes, 'I suppose I should listen.'

'Perhaps, instead,' Merlin replied quietly, 'you should listen because I'm your friend.'

Arthur turned to him, his face softening as he nodded slowly.

'Yes, I think you're right.'

'I always am,' Merlin grinned. Arthur shook his head in amusement and then slung his arm around Merlin's shoulder.

'Come on then, my friend,' he smiled. 'I have a new kingdom to build, and your advice would be greatly appreciated.'

**The End**

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